


Of Will and Wildflowers

by Maybethereshope



Category: 9-1-1: Lone Star (TV 2020)
Genre: Also I said speed run but this will end up being like 30k words LMAO, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Because this is very Austen-esque and people fall in love VERY quickly lol, Cowboy Carlos, Enemies to lovers speed run, Hands touching causes internal swooning, It's basically like Bridgerton in that regard, M/M, Marriage, No homophobia in my fantasy world, No racism either, Requited Unrequited Love, The Gilded Age, The ask was for a Bridgerton AU but Regency Era just wouldn't work so here we are, Yearning, but like super rich, it's about the yearning, period drama, there it has its own tag, this is so self indulgent and trope-y just enjoy it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-16 06:14:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 22,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28826523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maybethereshope/pseuds/Maybethereshope
Summary: 1885. TK is son of Owen Strand, of Strand Intercontinental Railroad Company. They have traveled from their home in Manhattan to the southern US to cut deals with landowners there to build a lucrative rail line through central Texas. TK is 26, and his father thinks he’s getting rather old to be unmarried. He has warned TK that if he does not find a husband by the end of the year, he will arrange a marriage, as Owen cannot by law bequeath his fortune upon his death unless his son is married. TK is displeased with having to hurry his decision to wed. Truly at his heart, he is a romantic and wishes to marry for love. It’s just that love has been hard to come by with the flighty boys of his set back home in New York. He’s not holding out hope for any prospects in whatever back country they’re traveling to either.
Relationships: Carlos Reyes/TK Strand
Comments: 12
Kudos: 36





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all! So @howtosingit received an ask about a Tarlos Bridgerton AU and I said I would attempt it. Up there in the tags I explain why it isn't a true Bridgerton AU, but I hope everyone enjoys it! 
> 
> You should be able to tell from reading, but here are some world building things of note:  
> No homophobia (this is not about overcoming being gay)  
> No racism (there is no tension inherent in them being of different racial backgrounds)  
> No misogyny (whoever is first born inherits, whatever gender they happen to be)  
> Basically this is a fantasy world where everyone is just a PERSON, and they're not fighting against anything else other than their stupid yearning hearts. :)
> 
> This will likely be three parts, and probably a little over 30k words because I am incapable of writing short things. I hope you enjoy, and please please comment! I am clinically depressed and I need motivation and I am not above begging lmao

“Ms. Mercer’s proposal looks promising,” Owen says, mostly to himself but loud enough to include TK in the conversation, should he wish to participate. “And Mr. and Mr. Felton-Lowman have quite a sprawl, though it does look to contain more elevation than I was hoping. I thought all of Texas was supposed to be flat?” Owen muses as he tosses the papers back onto his makeshift desk. 

TK is only half listening, choosing instead to stare morosely out the window at the passing countryside of the American South, eyes at intervals tracking livestock in the fields and lingering drips from this morning’s light storm rolling down the glass window of the lavish Pullman they’ve commandeered as their vessel for this journey. His father, bless his soul, had tried to get TK to care more about the business as of late, and truth be told, TK was very interested in the workings of his father’s company and he did take great pride in being able to inherit it someday and make his father proud. It was just that recently, he’d had his heart thoroughly crushed by an absolute rake of a man and he’d rather wallow in self pity than think about geological surveys and boundaries for livestock movements. 

TK heard his father sigh, a sure sign that a lecture was coming soon. TK took a breath and held it. 

“I wish you’d forget about that awful boy, Tyler. You wouldn’t have wanted a life with him anyway. His family was barely polite at best, and scandalous at their worst. Honestly, you got out on the good side of things.” TK wanted to say that he didn’t care about things like status and scandal, he cared about love and commitment. 

Turns out all Alexander had been able to commit to was his harem of stable boys and footmen that TK had known nothing about until it was too late. 

TK blew out his breath. He knew his father meant well. Owen Strand was not overbearing as some other fathers were, especially with an only child upon whom everything rested. He wished his son to be happy and settled, is all. TK knew this, and still he couldn’t help his sullen reply.

“Yes, father, I shall just forget. Forget every sweet nothing and every second and third dance. Forget every promise and every earnest declaration. Forget that it was all a lie. Yes, my mind shall be rid of Alexander’s presence by sundown. Then we shall celebrate. How simple.” He knew he was being unreasonable, but he wanted to be angry for a while. He’d only found Alexander with Mrs. Howell’s second footman three days earlier. It still stung. 

As the train rattled on, closer to a place that TK was of a mind to understand was so far from proper civilization as to be considered exotic, he felt his father’s disappointment cling to him. That hurt worse than what he’d seen Alexander and the footman doing--which was something for which he was sure a name had not been invented yet. 

“I’m sorry, father. It’s just that you’ve set this deadline for me with no explanation as to why, and I don’t want to let you down but I’m afraid I’ll never find the right man for me. I had thought it would be Mr. Thompson, but I was mistaken. Sorely mistaken.”

At this, TK looked up to catch his father’s soft look of commiseration. “I know you’re feeling overwhelmed, but you are getting on in age. Most boys are married off by three and twenty, and you’ve gone nearly four years past that. I’m not going to be around forever, you know. You need to secure a match that makes you happy, but you’ll need to do it sooner rather than later.”

“Why, father? Why must I rush such a momentous decision? You are in perfect health! I have another five or ten at least!” At this, he caught a very minute shift in his father’s countenance, something like pain, but it was gone in an instant. His father was the most stoic man TK had ever had occasion to meet; if he was in pain at all, no one would ever know. It must have been a trick of the flickering pre-dusk light coming through the windows of the train car. Owen took on a playful tone.

“Five or ten? What respectable young lad would want to marry a man of thirty-five? You’d practically be spinster by then,” he joked fondly. 

“You’re a good deal past thirty-five and I’ve still seen twenty year old Miss Brinkman making eyes at you across the dancefloor of an evening. If I’ve inherited your genes I’ve nothing to fear,” TK shot back with a barely there smirk. 

“Thank heaven for us all, but you’ve got your mother’s beauty. I couldn’t have asked for better,” Owen said quietly. TK’s mother had been gone these past ten years. A bout with pneumonia that the doctors could not cure had taken her from them. “But you do have my charm, I’ll allow you that. You should put it to use down south. Perhaps a cattle baron might catch your eye?”

“Oh by God, no. I couldn’t imagine whiling away my days on a smelly farm trying to read reports by moonlight and taking my sullen and fatigued husband to bed only for him to fall asleep minutes after his head hits the pillow. No romance in hard labor, that’s for sure.” TK shuddered a bit to think of life on an actual farm, constantly smelling of hay and manure like some streetsweeper back in Manhattan. 

“I do believe successful cattle barons can afford more than a few tawdry tallows, Tyler,” Owen quipped with a smirk before turning his attention back to the maps and surveys scattered in front of him. The conversation that, just moments ago, had been fraught with uncertainty and earnestness seemed to flutter into the wind. TK and his father were like that most times: they’d lay things out on the table between them, and if it clearly couldn’t be resolved in a single good-natured quarrel, they both gave themselves time to regroup to resume the discussion at a later date. 

For this particular subject, TK was coming to think of that ‘later date’ as a cuff slowly tightening around his wrist, the chain binding him to his destiny getting shorter and shorter. 

He looked down at his hands, privileged hands that hadn’t had to do much manual labor in his life, save for the few times his father took him to the yards to show him how things were run. Owen, on the other hand, was an entirely self-made man, who saved and invested his earnings working for Vanderbilt and made enough to purchase his first railcar at just twenty. He contracted it with the Erie and charged passengers thirty-five cents for passage between New York and Boston. From there it only grew, to what was now a very respectable business, looking to lay lines of their own. Perhaps not the largest--that was still Vanderbilt’s claim--but certainly a player on the board. 

And it would all be TK’s if he could just hurry up and fall in love already. 

* * *

The carriage from the station drove them twenty miles through gorgeous hill country. The cattle and horses grazed on rolling plains that swelled gently as they approached the horizon. It was warm, but not unbearable, which TK attributed to the absence of industry steaming and smoking and saturating the very air in one’s lungs as it did in Manhattan. Furthermore, despite the over-abundance of livestock surrounding them, the smell was far more pleasant than he was used to. TK could not help but conclude upon this observation that maybe it was not the horses that stunk, but the people. After all, fresh air was a luxury very few could afford, and they usually had to go thousands of miles to get it, such as he and his father were doing now.

Still, he held to his earlier affirmation that he could not see himself making a life in a place such as this. Despite the fact that he’d concluded they apparently smelled horrid, TK loved being around people. He supposed that was to be attributed to being an only child, and having no siblings underfoot to raise ruckus and otherwise pierce the silence that hung heavy over their home of late. Even though he’d not experienced that kind of life, he’d always hoped to make a large family of his own, his husband and he adopting ten or more children to raise and fawn over. TK had never considered for a moment that he wouldn’t be a father, regardless of his proclivity for finding only men attractive in any way. Some of that persuasion chose to remain as partners only, bequeathing their fortunes, such as they were, to their universities or other charitable pursuits. But TK had always wanted a house full of mouths to feed and hearts to warm. 

He dreamed about the day when he could look over at his husband, gray-haired and body-bent, and smile at what they’d created. 

Except it did not seem as though he would be acquiring a husband any time soon, and that thought vexed him more than he let on to his father. Yes, he agreed that he was getting on in years as far as marriageable age for young bachelors was concerned, but his one universal truth was that he would not settle for someone who was not the love of his life. That conviction, though others called it foolish, was the great constant that ran through every interaction TK had with any handsome man he happened upon. 

He was determined to uphold that promise to himself, no matter how many years passed. If the right one came along, he’d know it. No matter for the moment, anyway, as he was doubly sure he’d not meet the love of his life in the middle of cattle country.

As the carriage rounded another gentle swell, a rather large bright structure came into view. TK put his hand up to shield his eyes for a moment, as it seemed the very sun shone out of the building. As they drew closer to the drive—lined with giant oak trees on each side like twenty such sentries—it became apparent that the house was not radiating light, but reflecting it. Every upright surface was covered with glittering textured limestone, something TK had seen here and there on their travels through the southern states. Also something they had encountered before was a grievously oversized stoop—which these people called porches—that spanned the entire width of the house, and it was evident that it wrapped around to the sides as well. It was dotted here and there with rocking chairs and benches, each with a wool blanket or cushion thrown haphazardly onto the seat to aid the sitter’s comfort on the otherwise hard wood surface. 

They reached the house after a long drive up, and the carriage deposited them at the bottom of the steps up to the grand estate. TK had seen mansions in Manhattan and beyond, but this house was like a full government building. It was massive. He wondered how many people lived here. 

As their driver helped them from the carriage and began to let down their luggage, a shriek of delight could be heard just inside the door. TK jumped for a moment, not expecting such a sound in such a peaceful place, before he was bombarded with the view of three bright young ladies in finely detailed seersucker and bustled skirts. 

“Oh, you’ve arrived at last!” the one who looked to be the eldest exclaimed. She was tall, at least half a foot taller than the other two, with ink black hair tied up in neat chignon. Her sleeves accented delicate wrists and her waist was nipped down modestly. She smiled like TK and his father arriving was akin to a grand parade, when really they resembled world-weary travelers who could barely un-stoop their backs from so long inside the carriage. The other two young ladies—girls really—giggled behind their hands. They bore a strong resemblance to the elder; certainly they were all sisters. 

Ever the gentleman, TK removed his hat to gesture to the ladies, who gave curtsies in answer. Owen did the same, and received curtsies that went just a bit deeper. “Good afternoon, ladies,” Owen called with a smile. “I was told I could meet directly with Doña Marialena upon our arrival.” He quirked his eyebrow up in question, even though it was perfectly plain that none of these girls was old enough to be the proprietor of this estate, unless they had been sorely deceived. TK thought he might admire someone capable of extending that sort of ruse for as long as they’d been corresponding with the Doña. But alas, a moment later, a much older woman who resembled quite strikingly all three ladies gathered on the porch emerged from the wide open front door. 

The Doña was an intimidating woman on her own, but the height afforded her by their current positions made it seem even more so. TK tucked his hat into his elbow and bowed low, following his father’s action. The older woman bent her knees a bit, and TK noticed she did not descend the steps to meet them, but instead kept her position above, behind her daughters. 

“Welcome to La Hacienda Reyes, gentlemen,” she intoned in a very slightly accented, gravelly voice. It should have sounded harsh, but it just sounded well-used, as though she’d employed it many times to shout at her daughters for their impropriety at scurrying out to meet guests on the lawn without their bonnets, as she looked apt to do right this very second. TK did not mind their state of dress so much, as rules were getting a little more lax for the younger set these days, especially in the city. Though, now that he thought about it, these country folk might be a mite more traditional, but he let the thought fade into obscurity as the Doña smiled softly down at him a moment later, as if sharing a secret.

He and Owen approached the steps as the Doña descended to meet them. Owen made their introductions as TK took her hand in his, giving a small bow as was customary. He let his father lead the conversation as he made his way over to the daughters assembled on the lawn. He kissed each of their hands in turn, learning that their names were Christina, Elena, and Raquel, from eldest to youngest. He was also informed that Christina was not the eldest in the household; her sister Rosa was ten years her senior and married, and she and her wife were summering on the East Coast. 

As Christina regaled TK with how wonderful and filled with revelry their visit was to be, a lone figure appeared at the edge of his vision, galloping up quite swiftly on horseback. The animal was beautiful, sleek and black and moving with its rider as though they were one. As they drew closer, Christina also lit on to the approaching figure.

“Oh, there’s my brother. Mamà will have his head for not meeting you directly, as the man of the house should. Even though he won’t inherit, she still insists he accompany her when seeing to the business of the estate, especially when Rosa is away.”

“I’m sure he had urgent business to attend,” TK offered, however he did not know what kind of business a man in fine brocade—as he could now see the golden threads shining in the Texas sun—would have out in the fields. “We did arrive earlier than expected, I believe. Our apologies.”

“Oh, no. He wished to stay away. I’m of right mind to assume he thought we’d already be inside by now and that’s why he’s made his appearance, and he’ll be sorely thwarted to see us still about.” She fought to hide a smirk, and TK was intrigued. However, he didn’t have time to contemplate on the apparent lack of manners of the man of the house before the man in question was upon them. 

He was invariably handsome, that much was clear on his approach. He had tanned skin that shone in the rays of the afternoon sun, and curls atop his beautiful head that caught that same light and transformed into blacks and browns and golds as he moved. He was fit and tall, as TK could tell even from his seat on the horse, and he commanded an air about him that sang with regality. As he disembarked from the saddle, TK was struck dumb at the fluidity of his movements. It was as if he was still galloping along with the horse, moving slowly and rapidly at the same time, body deliberately placing itself where it needed to be rather than flinging his limbs about as some proud men were wont to do when they felt the urge to assert their authority. 

As he turned to face the gathered group and at last revealed his face from a close angle, TK was struck dumb. This man was gorgeous. Exquisite. A dream made flesh. TK could all of a sudden imagine what this man looked like when he smiled, when he was upset, when he was elated, when he cried. He could picture a thousand candlelit dinners at the Fifth Avenue Hotel across from this man, surreptitiously dragging their toes against one another under the table, faces and hearts alight with the impropriety of doing such a thing in public, but being too enamored of each other to care. 

He could picture all of this so clearly and crisply that he could almost smell the gardenia adorning the little vase upon the table. That was, until the man opened his mouth. 

“Gentlemen,” he spit, as though the word were a curse upon their persons. He turned to the Doña and intoned in a volume that was surely meant to be overheard but made as if to seem secretive, “Mother, I thought you said only  _ one _ was coming. We must entertain two greedy industrialist blackguards for the whole of the week when we’ve not even fully migrated the herd?”

At this, Doña Marialena did not even flinch. She simply leaned in closer to her son and spit out a quick succession of words no doubt meant to silence his gaucherie, but which only served to wind his already pinched countenance into a tighter knot. When their short exchange had ceased, he looked mildly chastised but still as though he would rather be anywhere than here, meeting TK and his father on the front lawn. However, after receiving that nearly silent dressing down from his mother in front of their guests, he screwed his face into a more acceptable visage, and approached Owen, who was holding out his hand. 

Doña Marialena made their introductions, “Carlos, this is Owen Strand and his son, TK. Mr. Strand, this is my son Carlos. Please excuse his horrendous manners.”

Carlos took Owen’s hand. “Welcome to our Hacienda, sirs. You are from New York, is that correct?”

“We are. Nearly a fortnight’s journey to get here, but it was beautiful country to pass through,” Owen answered in a friendly tone, unfettered by the exchange of impropriety that had just taken place and determined to move into more friendly territory. 

“Ah, well. Let us hope your trip was not in vain,” Carlos answered with a barely there sneer. He turned to TK and offered his hand as Owen and the women turned to shuffle inside the house.

“It’s a pleasure, Mr. Reyes. I hope we can find some mutual agreement that is beneficial to all in this endeavor,” TK said solemnly while shaking the man’s hand. He’d abruptly become determined to dispense with all amorous thoughts of this abhorrent man. He and his father were here to do business, attend a party or two, and leave with contract in hand, and nothing more.

“There is nothing beneficial to my family about breaking off pieces of our home to sell to ardent capitalists,” Carlos hissed in a volume meant only for TK. “My grandfather’s blood is boiling in his grave as we speak.” 

“Well then I suppose it is advantageous for us that you are not the one making decisions about the estate. Your mother seems quite keen to receive the compensation of ‘ardent capitalists’, as you say. Perhaps there are some issues with the household which require assistance which you, as third born, were not made privy to, sir.” TK could not help himself, and shot back the jab without thinking it through. It was ill-bred talk of money in the open, and much more so to bring it up in a first meeting, but Mr. Reyes was the one who’d alluded to finances first, so TK felt little remorse upon seeing the other man’s face flash with indignation. 

Mr. Reyes looked as though he wished to lob one last verbal volley at TK, but seemed to think better of it which was a surprise given his utter lack of tact until that moment. He turned away from TK with a last look of barely tempered rage in his brown eyes and made his way up the steps and into the house. 

TK followed, determined not to ponder on why that look had given him gooseflesh in a way that did not suggest fear for one’s life, but rather intrigue at what other thinly veiled emotions his own words could make those eyes flash with. 

* * *

Dinner was a modestly lavish affair. The table was adorned with yellow roses, to symbolize friendship and cooperation, which TK thought was a nice touch from the staff yet ultimately ineffective. 

Well, possibly not entirely ineffective, as his father was currently wooing and entertaining the four women at the table with his usual easy charm, and they all seemed to be devouring his anecdotes and quips with good spirts.

It was Mr. Reyes that seemed out of sorts with the rest of the party. Even TK himself was beginning to forget their fraught exchange on the lawn and give in to the revelry of the evening. Truth be told he was glad to be at table with someone other than his father, who tended to give him pitiful looks and well-meaning advice about his recently broken heart. TK also had to admit that along with the laughing women, even Carlos himself was a nice change. His presence gave TK something to focus on other than thinking of his failed chance at happiness. 

As it was, TK had already forgotten that he’d vowed he would not focus on Mr. Reyes at all. 

“Your father tells me you are six-and-twenty and still a bachelor? How ever have you managed that?” The Doña asked across the table. Given his current preoccupation, TK didn’t even take the slightest bit of offense from the statement. It was helped along by the kind look in her eyes. 

He gave a bashful chuckle. “Hard work and perseverance, ma’am,” he joked, and the table laughed along with him, save for one. “I’ve simply not encountered the right match, I’m afraid.”

“If he was married to the work, I’d be less anxious, but alas…” Owen trailed off with a good natured smile. Even with all his father’s nagging, TK knew in his heart that his father wanted his son to be happy and unhurried in choosing a husband.

“I’m holding out for my perfect compliment. Is that so naive?”

“Maybe not for a man in such good standing as you. I’m sure you have suitors left and right vying for your attention, Mr. Strand,” Elena said from across the table. 

“I’m afraid at the moment I am quite unadorned with neither suitors nor passing interest,” he answered her. 

“I, too, am similarly afflicted,” Elena mourned with a sigh. TK thought she couldn’t have been more than seven-and-ten, quite young to be so concerned. Then again he thought perhaps the country was different than the city. The Doña was mature to be sure, but she looked much younger than he’d thought a woman with a child of more than thirty years—as had been hinted about the absent Rosa—would look. She must have been wed around Elena’s age after all. 

“Oh hush, sister. Your situation is not nearly as dire as mine,” Christina said. She placed the back of her hand to her forehead in an affected swoon. “Whenever shall  _ I _ leave the nest?”

“When someone who possesses such a lack of wits that it precludes them from knowing better comes to sweep you off your feet,” said Raquel. Her sister gave her a scathing look before smirking and presumably kicking her lightly under the table. The younger sister just giggled and went back to her meal. 

As TK watched the family interact, lightly teasing each other good-naturedly but never outright insulting each other, he could sense the love and connection among them. Oh, how he longed for a large family such as this someday. Surrounded by his children and their love for each other that ran so deep as to assure each and every one of them that no matter what was said in jest, they were always seeded first in the minds of the rest. 

Even with all the lighthearted conversation going on at table, the sole Reyes son was still silent. TK thought it odd that such a stoic, contemptible man could be born into a family of such vibrant women; he was surrounded by their vivacity every day and still he was unmoved to even smile into his potatoes at their revelry. The rest of them also seemed to sense that Mr. Reyes did not wish to partake in the lively conversation, as none of them moved to include him. The Doña glanced to her son every now and then, and TK couldn’t have said her expression looked reproachful (as he would have agreeably afforded her) but it did not look content either. 

Perhaps this was not usual behavior for Mr. Reyes. If that was so, then it really was the Strands’ arrival that had put him out of sorts and TK had no recourse to remedy that at present. He and his father were here for business that must be conducted, and Mr. Reyes would just have to live with that.

The Doña had apparently noticed TK going quiet among the ruckus and subsequently had noticed his earlier gaze flickering around the family accompanied by a soft smile. It seemed as though she’d misinterpreted his attentions, however. 

“Perhaps the perfect compliment is sooner encountered than you think.” She gave a very slight incline of her head, seemingly meant to indicate Christina, who was sitting to her right and had proceeded to blush so profusely TK was momentarily concerned for her health. He endeavored to be diplomatic but firm against the Doña’s clear initiative, which was impossible for anyone at the table to miss.

“Ah, your family is lovely, Doña, but I fear your son and I would need to converse at length before we could find views on which we do not differ at the moment.” It was part lighthearted joke, part barely concealed jab at Carlos, and part signal of his preferences, so as not to invite any more ideas about betrothing him to one of the daughters. 

Alas, he did not miss the Doña’s sharp eye turn to her son before landing back on himself in quick succession. Given their greeting, the Doña should not rightly expect there to be any amorous feeling available between them. Her face relaxed after a moment, and she returned her gaze to the rest of the table. TK did not feel cowed, per se, but the weight of her scrutiny could still be felt upon his cheeks. He was immediately given to wonder what could be contained behind those steady brown eyes, so like her son’s. 

As the conversation resumed—Christina was finally ribbing her brother for his lack of mirth this evening—yet again TK found himself studying Carlos Reyes, handsome specimen that he was. But the cut of a man’s jaw and the shine of his eyes did not a welcome companion make, in TK’s view. Sure, he’d lost himself for a moment in the man’s fluidity of movement, the low timbre of his voice, the fire in his expression. But the measure of a man is in his actions, not his appearance. A man can appear any way he wants to; it is his behavior that epitomizes his character. Carlos Reyes had shown himself to be headstrong, closed-off, and prejudiced. TK had no use for such a personality. Carlos could while and wallow away his days alone for all TK cared. He would leave here with no attachments and that would not be a hardship.

Just at that moment, the man in question met his eyes. They stared for a moment, caught in some trap of unconscious strain, seemingly bound to the attempt to find the measure of each other in a single look. When TK looked away first, he felt as if he’d lost some contest. 

When he chanced a glance toward the man again, he found his gaze hadn’t wavered but was now more open than it had been since they’d met, which admittedly was not to say much. 

Later that night, when Christina had shown them to their guest rooms, Owen made an observation as they dressed for bed.

“The girls are quite well-bred,” he stated, apropos of nothing. The caliber of the family had no bearing on the land, therefore it was of little interest to them in coming into this negotiation. At least, that is what TK believed. His father, it was apparent, thought differently. “And Doña Marialena is a fine head of the household. She has taught her children well.”

At this, TK scoffed. 

“And her son is quite adept, don’t you agree?” Owen continued as he hung his dinner jacket away. “A good man who knows the value of family and home.”

TK could not let this statement slide. “A good man? He’s an absolute cad!”

“Oh? He was perfectly cordial during dinner. There was that snafu when we arrived, but that was cleared up quickly. I say, he’s a fine man.” TK was astonished at his father’s ability to forgive anyone almost anything, but this was almost too far. Mr. Reyes had barely said a  _ word _ at dinner, and that was only after he’d been forcibly pulled into conversation by Christina. Even then he’d talked of nothing but the weather and cattle movements, and he’d offered a mild chuckle at Elena’s story of her first time riding a horse. He’d spent the rest of the evening simultaneously staring at and avoiding TK. 

TK knew this because he’d been doing the same, though he would sooner saw off his own hand than admit to it. 

“He insulted us and called us names. He besmirched our honor. He wears brocade to ride in! What on earth makes him a good man?” TK huffed out a breath. He turned to see his father just smiling at him. 

“He’s a good judge of a room, anyway. He seldom looked away from you,” Owen ribbed. TK could now see where this was heading. His own father was just as bad as the Doña trying to play matchmaker.

“Parents are far too successful in matching their children up economically, but when it comes to romance, parents are no better off than if they hadn’t known another eligible soul in the world,” TK recited. 

“Oh, come now son, I’m not that insensitive! He’s handsome isn’t he?” his father returned, finally dropping the ruse and showing his true colors. 

“Handsomeness does not a happy home make,” TK recited again. 

“You’ve been reading too many Dame Juliette columns.”

“And you’ve been trying to plot my marriage since we were on the train, and the minute you saw a handsome son on this estate you’ve sealed my fate, have you?” TK groused. 

At this, Owen softened his face. “I am sorry for being a bit pushy, but Mr. Reyes is the first man you’ve so much as made eye contact with of late. Is it so odd to wonder what about him brought you out of your self-imposed melancholy?”

“Who said I was out of my melancholy?”

“Your eyes whenever they met his.” Owen’s face was serious, no longer teasing. 

“He makes me angry, is all. Anger is an emotion.”

“Yes. Yes it is.” And with that, Owen turned to climb into his own bed, the conversation abruptly halted and TK left wondering what his father thought he’d concluded from their exchange. 

Lying on his own mattress across the hall, TK wondered at emotion. Sure, anger  _ was _ an emotion. A useful one. But so was love, and he was determined to hold out for it. 

* * *

The morning after their first night in La Hacienda Reyes, TK woke with renewed energy to be devoted to forgetting Carlos Reyes even existed. 

This endeavor proved extremely difficult when upon descending the stairs to the foyer, the man in question was seemingly awaiting him, pacing across the marble floor with agitated clicks of his boots. The sight brought TK up short, and he consequently forgot that his father was just behind him, causing Owen to collide into his back and sending TK tripping down the last two steps—

Straight into Mr. Reyes’ arms. They were pressed together so tightly for a moment that TK swore he could feel the other man’s exhales as they left his nostrils, softly caressing TK’s cheek as they went. One of his hands was gripped tightly on TK’s shoulder while the other had instantly wound its way around his waist to steady him. 

It took TK an inordinate amount of time to catch his breath, all the while feeling that very firm body against his. As his senses returned, he felt himself blaze with the most furious blush at the proximity, and hurried to right himself. He nearly butted his head into the other man’s nose in the process, but proceeded to stand upright without further incident. He set about straightening his waistcoat before looking up and catching Mr. Reyes’ eye almost by mistake. 

The other man seemed just as red in the face as he. They held each other’s gaze for a split second longer before TK was violently reminded that the incident had not happened in private, but that the whole of the ghastly encounter was overseen by his own father.

Owen asked,  _ much _ too late in TK’s opinion, “Are you alright son? I apologize for being so clumsy there,” he added in address to Mr. Reyes.

The man of the house was the first of the pair at the bottom of the stairs to regain use of his tongue. “It’s quite alright, sir. No harm done.”

“That’s true, as you were here to prevent it. Lucky, that.”

TK thought to himself that he would like to disappear from this mortal plane rather than be party to his father’s smug innuendos, especially after their conversation last night and TK’s renewed vows of thoroughly avoiding the man of this house. 

Mr Reyes, however, seemed unattuned to Mr. Strand’s jabs, and simply addressed them both again cordially.

“Good morning to you both, I hope you slept well.” They replied that they had, as was proper, despite TK’s own thoughts. He wasn’t about to share  _ that _ . “I’ve actually come to offer you a tour of the grounds at my mother’s behest, and also in apology for my unmitigated rudeness upon your arrival.” 

TK was inclined to believe the apology was also at the Doña’s behest, if not absolutely forced. She seemed a formidable enough woman to demand decorum from her adult son. 

“I understand your company is pursuing the land in the northwest quadrant of the estate. It would be my pleasure to take you there so that you can survey at your leisure.”

“So early?” Owen asked. They had not yet broke fast. 

“Yes sir, in order to avoid the humidity of midday, I thought we’d ride out closer to dawn. Our cook has packed some provisions in lieu of the breakfast meal.” At this, he gestured to a medium sized basket atop a side table by the door, apparently from which the scent of bacon—as TK had just caught on the air—was emanating. 

To be quite honest with himself—which he would admit much, much later was not very honest at all—TK was not at all looking forward to spending the morning with Mr. Reyes and his ridiculously dashing seat on a horse. His father being there would temper his mood, but he’d rather spend the day walking about on his own, soaking in the fresh air and solitude of the country. Or even alongside his father and the Doña, negotiating the sale of her land, as Owen had expressed his desire that TK begin immersing himself in the business and he saw no better time than now, in avoidance of any extra time spent in Mr. Reyes’ presence. 

The man made him hot around the collar and jittery, and the real problem was that TK was even more angry that neither of those emotions were particularly loathsome at the moment and he could not explain to himself why.

“That sounds like an excellent idea, Mr. Reyes. Unfortunately, I really must sit down with your mother and ask her about some specifics regarding the provenances, so I must decline your kind offer.” At this, he turned to TK, who was already giving him wide eyes of panic before he even opened his mouth. “TK, would you be so kind as to accompany Mr. Reyes around the property? You know the general gist of what we are looking for, and you can report back to me with what you find. I’d really appreciate your help on this, TK.”

The man was practically grinning like a fool. TK thought he might keel over right there on the marble tiles of the Reyes’ foyer. 

Mr. Reyes’ face was unreadable at the moment, but TK could imagine the line of his thoughts. The two of them no more wanted to spend time with each other alone than either would want a hole in the head. 

Mr. Reyes, however, was the first to recover from the abrupt change in plan, with a direct capitulation that TK could have punched him for, had he been a less tactful man. “That…would be agreeable,” he said haltingly. He turned to look at TK, who schooled his countenance into something less vile than he felt this turn of events warranted. “Would that please you, Mr. Strand?”

Would it  _ please him?  _ Absolutely not. 

“Of course, Mr. Reyes,” he said tightly, resigned to his fate. “I look forward to seeing your lovely estate and hearing its history.”

Mr. Reyes looked almost surprised at his cordiality, and TK congratulated himself on his capability of social falsehood. 

* * *

Their journey was to take them from the back of the house out and around the northwest corner of the ranchland where they would stop to breakfast at a small manmade lake and then south to the orchards, through which they would find themselves back at the west side of the house. All told, Carlos informed him, the trip would take them for six miles. TK resigned himself to a morning of misery, and judging by his would-be companion’s face, he was not alone in that regard. 

Their basket of provisions securely fastened to Mr. Reyes’ saddle, and both saddles securely fastened to their mares, the pair set off in silence other than Owen’s shout of farewell from the porch. 

They strolled along at a leisurely pace—too slow for TK’s regard—for quite a while before either spoke. Mr. Reyes looked over to TK with a judgemental eye before saying, “Watch for snakes in the grass. Flor will not spook at them, but she will spook if you do.”

“I’m not afraid of snakes,” TK snapped, although he couldn’t rightly say he’d ever seen one up close. “Furthermore, I am high on this horse, why would I worry about something as low as a snake?”

“Rattlers can jump. They’ll have your boot off and will have half devoured your leg before you can think to turn the horse.”

TK whirled to look at him, consequently causing Flor to twist toward Mr. Reyes and Jimena, putting them much closer than TK would like after their bout that morning. He knew his face was a mask of barely concealed horror, the image Mr. Reyes’ words had conjured up no less than tremendously frightening to a city gentleman. 

Mr. Reyes’ face, however, was all mirth; his cheeks were reddening in the effort of holding back his obvious laughter, which he gave up the moment TK noticed his ruse. 

“That was a bold-faced lie and you are a scoundrel for it,” TK muttered, feeling teased.

“I’ll take that judgement just to see the terror on your face again,” Mr. Reyes laughed. TK was determined not to acknowledge that the man had a nice laugh, a full bodied, soft-edged one that sent warmth down to the tips of TK’s toes. TK was also determined to keep the scowl upon his face for the whole of this journey, never mind the wrinkles he was likely to develop. Curse this loathsome cowboy and his ill intentions and his shining curls and his full lips. They lapsed into silence again for another half mile. 

In his endeavor to ignore his companion, TK failed to notice how he was being closely regarded by said companion. He should have been able to feel the gaze upon the side of his face like sunlight as heavy and warm as it was, but alas he remained ignorant of it in favor of the beautiful countryside.

TK began to notice little strains of wildflowers growing on the gentle swells of hills here and there, their elevations no more than four or five feet. It was like looking at someone’s floral bedding that had been disturbed in sleep and not righted in the morning; soft, loved, and lived in, a safe place to come back to at the end of the day, a warm comfort to calm the tumultuous stresses one was apt to battle in the waking hours. 

“The red and orange ones that reach toward the sky are called Indian Paintbrush,” Mr. Reyes intoned softly causing TK to turn his gaze away from the flowers in a startle. It had been so quiet he’d almost forgotten his company. “There,” Mr. Reyes pointed, urging TK to return his focus to the flowers. “That line there is all paintbrush. And the purple spiked ones are Horsemint.”

“Why are they so named? Do they taste of mint?” TK wondered aloud.

“I’m…not sure. I’ve never had occasion or urge to eat one. Perhaps the name means only horses would taste the mint, but Flor and Jimena do not seem so inclined either.” His chuckle was tacked on at the end, but it didn’t feel accusatory this time. It sounded as if TK had honestly stumped him with his question and he was considering the answer in earnest, but had ultimately come up short of a correct guess. 

TK focused again on the sweeping little hills as they continued to trot along. “And the pink ones? What are they called?”

“Ah, I believe those are Evening Primrose. Those are the most prominent of the wildflowers here, as I’m sure you can tell. Quite boring to look at compared to the others, but a constant nonetheless.” His tone gave TK the impression that he, too, found the fields of flowers calming. It would make sense, seeing as this was his homeland. Or…was it?

“Have you always lived here? Or did your family come into the property recently?”

“My great-grandfather purchased the land at a pretty steep discount in twenty-six, just a couple of years after the Colonization Law took effect. He came far enough north that he wouldn’t be too crowded in with the rest of his countrymen, and settled the bit to the south of us, where the house is located. He did build it, but it was not as large as it is now. It’s been expanded with both generations since, I believe.”

“Your great-grandfather came from Mexico to settle?”

“Technically, this was Mexico still when he came, since the war for Independence was not won until thirty-six. But yes, he came from Guadalajara. He thought less over cultivated land would suit better for cattle ranching, and it turns out he was right. We now have three hundred head.” His voice was proud as he recounted the story, and TK was drawn in by the clear reverence he had for his family history. He wanted to hear more, so he asked after how the estate came to be so large.

“My grandfather negotiated the rest of the land from the tribes settled here at the time, which admittedly were so few in number that the endeavor was swift. He offered them fifty head and a handsome cash sum as well, and the deal was struck in accord. The tribe moved north to the central territories and are still there today I believe. We’ve had a few high ranking members as visitors in my youth, and they were always amiable and welcome.”

Mr. Reyes’ soft smile had drawn TK’s attention again and this time he let himself look. The man practically glowed as he talked of his heritage, his family, and it was rather intoxicating. TK wanted to ask after more, but it seemed they’d reach the aforementioned lake that they were to stop and break their fast beside. He allowed Flor to carry them to a stop at a suitable spot and dismounted, again allowing himself to watch as Mr. Reyes did the same. He was taken in by the same fluidity and grace as he had been the day previous, before their awful actual meeting. 

TK was finding it hard to remember Mr. Reyes being crass yesterday, no matter how hard he tried. 

In tandem, they spread out an extra saddle blanket in the grass, still slightly damp from the morning dew. Their provisions were divvied up and tea was poured into metal cups, and TK was just about to take his first sip when Mr. Reyes spoke, and his tone bade TK listen carefully.

“Mr. Strand—“

Without rightfully thinking about it, TK interrupted him with, “Please, you should call me TK. Well, my name is Tyler, but only my father calls me that. Friends call me TK.”

Mr. Reyes looked taken aback for a moment, possibly at the implication of  _ friends _ , but TK kept his face impassive. He’d not have them making a mountain out of a grain of sand such as a name. They were to be business acquaintances anyway, and they should address each other as such. All of Owen’s partners called him by his first name, so TK took a page from his book by extending the offer. It would help keep his mind firmly on their business relationship.

It absolutely was not so he could hear his name, both sharp consonants of it, softened in Mr. Reyes’ steady timbre. 

“TK,” he corrected, and the named man swallowed a sigh at being proven right about the sound of it coming off those lips. “I would like to—that is, I am committed to—well, what I would like to say is—“ he halted, frowning down at an apple clutched in his own hand. He set the apple aside, and turned to TK directly. 

“TK, I mean to sincerely apologize for my behavior yesterday. It was rude and judgmental without cause, and I am sorry. I hope you can forgive me that transgression, as I do hope we are able to work together seamlessly in this partnership.”

It seemed sincere, TK thought. The man’s eyes were fervent and his face was open in a way it hadn’t been since the Strands had arrived. For a moment, TK was lost in those eyes that reflected the climbing sunrise off the water of the small lake like Mr. Reyes was radiating the warmth of goodwill through his very irises. His eyes were soft, inviting, shining with their earnestness. It was a long moment before he spoke, which Mr. Reyes seemed to take as reservation but was in fact TK pure preoccupation with studying the man’s face at the most inappropriate of times.

“I do hope I haven’t ruined things between my family and yours,” Mr. Reyes went on. “It’s just that I—well I’m quite attached to my home here and my pride is tied up in what my forefathers accomplished.”

“To see it broken up and sold off is to admit defeat that this generation could not hold the line,” TK finished for him, and his eyes grew wide. 

“Yes, precisely.” 

“I have misgivings about that kind of thing also. My father built such a tremendous enterprise—nothing like the Vanderbilts of course, but sprawling in reach nonetheless. I…find myself at times overwhelmed with the prospect of taking it on alone.” It must have been the country air, the absence of all human life for a few miles, and the still burgeoning sunrise combined that made his tongue so loose with such intimate thoughts. Surely he was losing control of his faculties if he was given to sharing his heart in this way, TK mused. 

Even so, Mr. Reyes’ face had not closed off yet; it remained open and inviting to those thoughts and perhaps welling up with some of his own to share, now that the barrier had lost a few bricks and they could see each other over their respective sides of the wall they’d built over the previous day and evening. 

“But, you won’t do it alone, will you? You cannot inherit until you marry, by law,” Mr. Reyes reminded him. Those deep brown eyes were on him again, somehow more liquid than before. TK must be imagining things now. He blinked the line of thought away.

“Yes, that’s true. But who’s to say I’ll marry a man who wants to be involved in the railroad business? My true love may be a man of the arts, constantly shut away in his studio creating pieces to adorn our home and teaching our children to appreciate the craft of them. Or he may be a man strongly devoted to politics and spend months away from home campaigning for the betterment of the American people. Or he may prefer the country life to the city, and I must remain in the city for the business for the bulk of the year. So you see, I may yet end up running the business alone, even if my life will not be spent in solitude. If I marry for love, I’ll be glad of that connection regardless if I get help with the business. Help is not what I’ll be marrying; it will be companionship outside of worldly endeavors that will make it worthwhile.” The picture he’d painted for himself inside his head was content, and he noticed he’d closed his eyes for a moment while he’d intimated the details to Mr. Reyes.

When he opened his eyes and refocused on his company, he saw Mr. Reyes duck his head slightly, a faint blush high on his tanned cheekbones. TK wondered if the other man was embarrassed of the intimate turn their conversation had taken, and hurried to move them to more casual topics.

“I do apologize, Mr. Reyes, I did not mean to be overly familiar with you. God above, it must be the early hour that has me as yet unable to master all my faculties.”

“No, please, do not apologize. I simply—that is—I do…admire your candor and conviction. Marrying for love is not rare, but it is not the standard. To be so assured of your path in life is enviable. I admit I haven’t given much thought to it myself.”

“You don’t think of who you’ll marry?” TK asked. He’d thought of nothing else since he was a boy. 

At this, Mr. Reyes’ eyes turned down for a moment, a cloud of something passing over his features before the sun shone through his expression again. “Not in the sense you’ve described, no. I supposed I always knew I would marry, because I knew I would not inherit the estate—though I do envy Rosa a bit—but I’ve never imagined what kind of man I would spend my life with. I always assumed I’d know who he was when he came along.” 

Their eyes met and for a moment not even the crickets or birds or any other constantly buzzing creature could be heard. TK was the first to break it, albeit in a slightly hushed tone.

“And he hasn’t come along yet?” he asked. 

“I didn’t say that,” Mr. Reyes answered. He looked disinclined to elaborate. They gazed at each other a moment longer before Mr. Reyes broke the contact and gestured to their spread. “We should partake of Mrs. Smith’s generous meal. It seems she packed for much more than three this morning,” he laughed, and it only sounded a little forced. “I assure you, the fresh bacon cooked in rosemary will change your perspective on life the moment it hits your tongue.”

TK took the change in subject gracefully, also keen to step back from the precipice they’d found themselves on much too early in their acquaintance, truth be told. They’d forgotten themselves but no harm had been done, and they could go on as intended—as short-term business collaborators only. 

* * *

They rode the rest of the way around the western perimeter as the sun reached higher in the sky, Mr. Reyes pointing out landmarks here and there. Ostensibly this outing was for TK to survey the land for it’s viability for their project, and he was doing so, but he was also enamored with Mr. Reyes’ ability to guide them along with enthusiasm and grace. It was very clear the man loved his home and was deeply proud of it, and TK was entranced when he talked. 

By the time they reached the apple orchard, TK had stopped deluding himself that he wasn’t fond of Mr. Reyes. He’d had his misgivings from the beginning, and for good reason, but there was a good man underneath the initial prickliness. Mr. Reyes could be likened to a cat protecting its young. Docile for the most part until his family was threatened, and TK could see where he’d felt that way initially. Mr. Reyes had come around quickly though and TK was not sure how much of that was due to his mother’s insistence and how much was just their conversation on this journey around the property in the early morning light. 

“It smells so heavenly here,” TK mused aloud as the horses picked their way between the lines of trees. To be able to be abreast of each other to properly hold a conversation, the horses were so close that occasionally TK’s knee or thigh brushed against Mr. Reyes’. It startled him each time, even though he’d come to expect it. He supposed it startled his body but not his mind, which was a disconcerting feeling indeed, but not altogether unpleasant. 

“They are called Gala apples. They thrive quite well here in the moderate rain. Would you like to try one?” Mr. Reyes asked. TK nodded with a small smile, and watched as Mr. Reyes dismounted Jimena and left her untethered. He turned back to TK and held out his hand. “Come along, it tastes better if you fetch it from the tree yourself,” he teased. 

TK stared at the outstretched hand before taking it and dismounting gracefully, coming familiarly close to Mr. Reyes for the second time that day. This time, only their hands were touching as opposed to their whole bodies—as they had been on the stairs that morning—but it felt almost more intimate. TK noticed that they’d paused to regard one another again as they had multiple times on this journey. However, as they had done each time, they broke their gazes and their contact and went on as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. The only problem was that each time it happened—and this incident more than all he rest—set his heart aflutter in such a way as to distract from all else in the moment. It took him increasingly longer to come back to himself each time. 

He watched as Mr. Reyes took a wooden-runged ladder from a pile on the ground and set it against the trunk of the nearest tree. Deftly, he climbed a few feet, reached up, and plucked a ripe bit of fruit from one of the lower branches before coming down off the ladder assuredly, his steps practiced as if he’d done this a thousand times before. Perhaps he had.

TK held his hand out for the fruit, but Mr. Reyes pulled it back and away. “Ah, ah. This one is mine. I told you, it tastes better if you fetch it yourself. I set your example, now it’s your turn,” he said, spitefully taking bite out of his prize, then using it to gesture to the ladder.

Unfettered by Mr. Reyes’ teasing, TK was determined to show that he could keep up with his companion’s prowess. He approached the ladder, assessing it for any weak points before tentatively stepping onto the first rung. It bowed gently under his weight, and he paused a moment to gather himself.

He felt a hand upon his hip and froze for a moment, feeling distinctly untethered. Looking down, TK saw Mr. Reyes’ earnest eyes on him, one hand steadying TK on the ladder and the other still casually consuming his fruit. He gave TK a reassuring smile and nodded in the direction of the tree, encouraging. 

The climb to the correct height took TK a bit longer than it had the cowboy who was used to such endeavors, but he managed. He plucked a juicy-looking specimen from a close branch before carefully climbing down, deliberately placing each footfall for optimum support from the wooden rungs below him. It was slow and arduous, but he accomplished it.

Once landed on the ground, he held up his spoil triumphantly. Mr. Reyes smiled.

“And now, Mr. City Gentleman, you have farmed apples!” He declared. 

TK bit his lip for a half-second before being unable to hold back his mirthful laughter. His eyes crinkled and his cheeks ached with it, and it felt so good that he didn’t notice his companion was gazing at him once more, admiration and awe in his expression. When his laughter came down to a more manageable level a few seconds later, they were caught in each other once again, as they had been many times that day. TK’s smile was still spread across his face and he looked up through his lashes at Mr. Reyes to see a serenity over his countenance that had yet to be shown since they’d known each other. 

It was beautiful. 

Just as quickly as the moment had began, it passed, with Mr. Reyes fingering his collar away from his neck in what seemed like a nervous gesture. “The heat is beginning to get oppressive,” he offered in explanation, though said heat was not yet unbearable in the slightest. “We should retreat to the safety of the house.”

“That sounds like a good idea. I wonder if our parents have concluded their negotiations for the day. I’d like to convene with my father to let him know what I’ve seen.” 

“Of course, well. Shall we?” Mr. Reyes gestured down the path between the trees, Jimena’s reins held loosely in his hand as he led her on foot. TK grabbed Flor’s lead and followed in quiet contemplation. He realized his manners had slipped.

“Thank you, Mr. Reyes, for this tour. It was enlightening, as well as a pleasant diversion.” 

“You are most welcome. And please, call me Carlos. After all, we are to be friends, as you put it.” His smile was radiant.

“Carlos,” TK tried out the name on his tongue with a nod. It tasted like the smoothest brandy, and TK felt like he was already drunk off of one sip.

“I wanted to reiterate my apology, to make sure it is clear. I judged you and your father before I allowed you to state your intentions. Your plans for the land, so far as you’ve told me, will not impact our operation negatively and I get the distinct feeling it is your mission to keep things that way as you work your way across the country. So I thank you for your discretion, and I once again humbly ask you to forgive my behavior yesterday.”

“It is already forgiven!” TK tells him, wanting to put any and all ill will behind them after such a glorious morning. “Do not worry over it any longer. Let us be friends from this day forth.”

Carlos smiled so wide it momentarily arrested TK’s heart. 

They reached the house in due course to find Elena on the porch frantically waving a piece of paper in her delicate hands. They tethered the horses to the post off the side of the house and approached. The girl looked as if she could barely form words through her excitement.

“Carlos!” She cried as they ascended the steps and removed their hats. “Guess who’s coming to the ball tomorrow night!”

“I’m sure you will tell me without me having to guess,” her brother teased good-naturedly, sharing a conspiratorial smile with TK as they passed into the foyer. 

“Mr. de Castillo,” Elena said, giving the name a weight that surely meant something, but which TK could not discern. He’d never heard the name before, but then again he did not know the upper class set of this region well enough to know their names and statuses that might warrant such excitement. 

When TK turned to face Carlos, he wondered what Elena could find so appealing that her brother seemed to find mildly horrifying, judging by his expression. His eyes cut to TK and they almost looked…guilty. 

Elena went on, oblivious to her brother’s distress. “His letter is posted from Santa Fe nearly two weeks ago, and he says he should arrive just in time to dress and attend. Isn’t that marvelous news, Carlos? He hasn’t come east since the fall. Oh how we’ve  _ all _ missed him.” She put emphasis on certain parts of her sentence that didn’t entirely make sense to TK, but he could feel a growing lump in the pit of his stomach as he watched Carlos’ face drain of color slightly. 

“He sounds like a character who’s good to know, if his presence at a dance excites you this much,” he offered to Elena to try and ease the focus off of Carlos, for he seemed unable to speak at that moment. 

“Oh, it’s not  _ me _ he excites,” Elena said, cutting her eyes to TK’s right, smirking but saying nothing more. TK did not turn to look at Carlos again, because that lump in his stomach was getting heavier the more Elena talked and he was not rightfully sure he could put a name to it just yet. Looking at Carlos’ guilty face was surely to spell it out quicker than he’d like. He halted his train of thought and plowed on.

“Well, I look forward to meeting this esteemed Mr. de Castillo. You said he’s not come east—do you mean to say he is from the west coast?”

“Yes, San Fransisco! His father rushed there in forty-nine and made quite the coup. They’re able to give the Rockefellers a run for their money, I’d wager,” she said. “And he’s so handsome as well.” 

That bit tacked on at the end was again delivered with a weighted look at Carlos which TK again ignored. 

He was saved from replying to Elena’s last comment by his father and the Doña appearing in the foyer.

“What’s got everyone in a fuss?” Owen asked. 

“Mr. Fernando de Castillo is coming to the ball tomorrow night!” Elena exclaimed, elated to share her momentous news with anyone who would listen.

“De Castillo…” Owen pondered, “Is that Isador de Castillo’s boy? Of San Fransisco?”

“Yes, the very same. Mr. de Castillo the younger visits us quite often, as he’s got business back east with his company and likes to stop for a week or so on his way through. We’ve all grown quite fond of him, especially Car—“

“That’s quite enough, Elena. The Mr.’s Strand are not interested in country gossip. Run along and find Constance to start your lessons. Your sisters are already studying while you’ve been flitting about.” The Doña’s voice was firm and clearly dismissive. She glanced at her son and TK in turn, before turning her attention back to Owen. “Mr. Strand, might we all go into the drawing room for tea? Our sons can regale us of their journey around the property.”

Owen’s smile was wide and eager as he looked to the two young men. “Of course, I cannot wait to hear your thoughts on the land, TK. The Doña and I will also impart to you what we’ve agreed upon thus far, though there are still the finer details to work out.”

Carlos immediately followed Owen into the room off the left side of the foyer, barely sparing TK a glance in contrast to all their lingering looks throughout the morning. That, combined with Elena’s cryptic words regarding their future guest, unsettled TK more than he would have liked. Still, he was determined to soldier on in his mission to become good friends and business partners with Carlos and the rest of the Reyes’, and he’d not let a silly thing like a matter of the heart—which may not even exist—get in his way. 

  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is a bouquet, a ball, and a bid farewell. And some angst. Lots and lots of angst :)
> 
> Also, regarding the Spanish here. I am not fluent, so I enlisted the help of my husband. My husband is a bilingual Peruvian American man who does not read historical fiction in Spanish on a regular basis, so please take the translations with that in mind. He did his best to make it fit the style of this story, and I will be forever thankful for his help!
> 
> Please enjoy!

“You’ll come, won’t you? To the ball at the Huntingtons’ tomorrow night?” Elena had pleaded her case as soon as the conversation had reached a mildly appropriate segue. 

“Well, we’ve not been invited by the hosts, so I’m not sure—“ Owen had begun.

“Oh you must! I will make your introductions to Miss Huntington—she’s the one behind the whole soiree anyway, not her parents—and she’ll be absolutely delighted to have two more in our number!” This was from Christina, who had heretofore been mostly quiet about the subject. TK had noticed her shooting furtive glances at her brother all evening, but every time he followed her gaze, he found Carlos’ eyes on him instead. It filled him with warmth each time before they both flushed lightly and returned to their meals or the conversation. 

“Ah, well it seems we’ll have to make an appearance then,” Owen said with a good-natured smile before turning to the Doña. “Perhaps you can also introduce me to Mr. de Castillo? I’d like to pick his ear about some contacts in that region of the country. I’ve not met anyone from the west coast as of yet. It seems such an exotic wilderness to hear it described. Deserts for miles until suddenly everything is green and ocean. What a place!”

At the mention of Mr. de Castillo, Carlos tensed up and seemed to almost reflexively dart his gaze up to TK across from him once more. This latest look, however, was instead filled with tension, as it had been in the foyer at Elena’s first mention of the man from California. TK wondered at what caused this change of countenance every time Mr. de Castillo was brought up. From Elena’s account he seemed to be close with the family, but perhaps there was bad blood between himself and Carlos? TK was slow to give this thought merit, though he had to internally admit it was possible. He’d found through firsthand experience that Carlos was not immediately trusting of new people. Perhaps Mr. de Castillo had made to court one of his sisters, and Carlos had told him off before he had full faculty of his tongue. Carlos could get himself in trouble that way, TK thought fondly. 

However, there was the fact that each time the man was mentioned, Carlos’ instinct was to look at TK with guilt in his eyes, so TK had to allow another theory to surface. Was Mr. de Castillo distrustful of New Yorkers? That was common among western folk; maybe Carlos wished to spare TK a fruitless meeting. They were becoming friends after all, and that may have explained the guilty cast to Carlos’ features when their eyes met. 

He was pulled from his musings by Christina on his right, who leaned in to whisper somewhat conspiratorially, “I’m so glad we’ll have you and your father there. Miss Huntington likes to have these dances once a quarter to liven up the mood in the countryside, but I dare say everyone dreads them anyway since it is always full of the same folk who have nothing more to talk about than the state of the weather and how many cattle have survived the past winter. As it’s summer now, that conversation has also turned stale, so you can imagine our enthusiasm to have new blood enter our midst, even for half a fortnight.”

“Ah, but aren’t you also having Mr. de Castillo in your midst as well? He sounds awfully interesting. Perhaps we dull and dusty New Yorkers will be left out of the revelry after all.” He could not help his eyes cutting to Carlos across the table again. It was as if they were magnetized to each other, but both refused to give in to the pull until it was unbearable. 

When their gazes met again, Carlos’ face was unreadable. It made TK uneasy yet again. It made him wonder if it was, in fact, himself that caused this downturn of Carlos’ lovely features. What had he done to warrant such behavior? Their morning had been so… He struggled with his mental vocabulary. Nothing he alighted upon could be slotted into the vacant spot in the sentence. 

Friendly? Well, yes, but that wasn’t right.

Refreshing? That was due mostly to the air and nature surrounding them.

Quiet and contemplating? Again, being confronted with the vastness of nature helped with that.

So what was it? What was this feeling TK couldn’t name that made his heart go soft and anxious at the same time? What was it that caused his face to warm at the mere thought of the man across from him? He thought of the orchard in particular. The smile on Carlos’ face, the way he lightly teased TK, the way he held his hand so gently as though it were a precious thing, the way their eyes met quietly and sincerely. 

_Intimate_ , TK thought, and blushed. 

They’d been more familiar with each other this morning than TK had ever been with anyone he wasn’t courting. 

He came back to the conversation slowly, his heart hammering now that he was thinking about the impropriety of their behavior this morning. The Doña and his father had even sent them out without a chaperone! They’d trusted their sons to be decent and the two of them had been anything but. 

TK would endeavor to keep his composure from now on. It was only proper for them to behave as gentlemen and not as school boys who couldn’t comport themselves with grace. He vowed to master his growing impulses to be near this man at any cost. 

That vow was dashed moments after he came back to himself and rejoined the conversation. 

“But now we shall have someone new to dance with! Oh Mr. Strand, I do apologize in advance but all the eligible ladies and gentlemen of the neighborhood will be vying for your hand for at least one dance. Your card will be full before you even arrive,” Elena teased, smiling at TK. 

“I will be honored,” he replied when he found his voice again. “But of course I will reserve the choicest slots for members of the house of our gracious hosts.” He gave a small bow of his head and smiled softly at each of the daughters and their mother before his eyes lit on Carlos. He halted once more, mental capacity diminishing at the liquidity in those brown eyes that one could simply drown in. “You as well, of course, Carlos.” 

“Oh, I’m sure Carlos will be well occupied,” Elena said with a giggle, causing TK to look her way in confusion. “His dance card is usually taken up by—“

“ _Elena_ ,” came the Doña’s sharp hiss and unbelievably, her eyes cut to TK as well before falling on her son. 

“What did I say? I was only telling the Strands of Carlos’ good fortune in securing—“

“ _Si no paras esta línea de hablar en este instante, no asistirás a ningún baile durante toda la temporada_.”

“ _Pero por qué, Mamá? No entiendo por que me regañas—_ “

“ _Elena, no puedes ver lo que está pasando entre ellos?_ ” Christina gestured slightly to TK and then to Carlos, which put TK on edge a bit despite the soft cast to her smile. “ _Nada con Sr. de Castillo está fijo. Deja que tu hermano encuentre su propio felicidad_.” TK couldn’t deny he’d heard the other man’s name in that sentence that he otherwise couldn’t interpret, and it just set his mind whirling anew at why the subject of the man from California was so touchy, and why it seemed to involve him in particular.

Carlos’ face was unmoving, the liquid of his eyes swirling. The whole exchange seemingly at his expense had taken no less than twenty seconds, but it seemed to pain him like a decade of hardship. He’d closed his eyes while his sisters and mother had argued—and TK could only assume from the tone that that was what had taken place—but now he opened his eyes to place them on TK yet again. This time a soft dimpled smile graced his expression through the upset, and the tension seemed to melt as they lost themselves in each other for another moment. In just a few seconds, TK’s heart swooped again into the warm waters of affection, floating there as they gazed at each other across the table. 

Carlos spoke into the expanse of space between them that seemed to swell and contract of its own accord in time with the beating of TK’s heart. “Of course, TK. It’s only proper to bestow a guest with a dance. Let us save one for each other.” 

He’d almost forgotten what line of conversation had caused the slight derailment of their dinner just moments earlier, but now thinking of this subject—of waltzing with Carlos across a crowded floor while others looked on in envy at the picture they made, for they surely were meant for each other—caused his heartbeat to spike once again and god damn him, when would he get a hold on himself? 

TK needed to master his own thoughts. There was no concrete evidence that his affection for Carlos was returned. Perhaps Carlos was familiar with everyone he called a friend, and perhaps this morning’s happenings were run of the mill for him. Perhaps TK was putting too much stock in the clasp of a hand or the brush of a shoulder. 

Perhaps TK was always mistaking friendliness for genuine affection, and that was why he kept getting his heart broken. The problem was that he could never quite resist a handsome face and a sweet demeanor, both of which Carlos Reyes possessed in abundance. TK resolved to himself to simply look forward to the dance to be shared with a friend and not read more into it than was proper. 

* * *

TK dressed in his best while lecturing himself that he should not be fretting so about his clothes but all the while doing it anyway. He hadn’t brought his best finery, but he did have one or two tops and tails for evenings among his things. As he buttoned himself into his trousers, he thought back on his musings from the train journey to Texas: that he’d never in a million years find a husband among this backwater country and that he’d gone into this just hoping to get home soon. 

He did his level best to keep that sentiment in mind, though it was proving more difficult by the moment the more he thought of Carlos’ laugh and his curls shining in the morning sunshine. 

Just that morning, they’d sunned on the giant porch on the east side of the house, rocking in wooden chairs and talking of nothing. Elena and Christina were riding and Raquel was toiling in the kitchen with Mrs. Smith, much to her mother’s dismay but to the girl’s delight, and Owen and the Doña were in the parlor discussing the merits and pitfalls of some Senator’s new tax bill they’d seen outlined in the paper that morning. 

TK couldn’t remember much of what he and Carlos talked of, because it really had been nothing. Besides he’d been too busy taking in the subtle sharpness of the jaw engaged in conversation rather than the conversation itself. When they’d exhausted every mundane topic they could think of, TK suggested a walk through the fields again, though obviously not as far as they’d been the day before. They strolled through the overgrown grasses in the patches close to the house that the cattle didn’t graze, the air tickling TK’s nose with it’s fragrance of wildflowers. 

At one point, Carlos stopped them and asked TK to wait for a moment while he wandered into the surrounding bouquets. He stooped and gathered a handful of brightly colored blooms, each with their own dazzling shade of pink, yellow, or orange. He approached TK once more with his bundle of spoils and offered them up. 

“I thought you might like some to put in your room for the time you remain here, since you admired them so, yesterday.” 

Speechless for a moment, TK simply nodded and took the tiny bouquet and cradled it against his chest, trying not to allow his heart to beat straight out of his rib cage. Carlos seemed not to think anything of the gesture, for he simply smiled a touch bashfully and turned away quickly; TK welcomed the privacy for the moment however, because he could not help holding them up to his nose to breath in the scent and softness of Carlos’ home and he knew no matter how far they ever were from each other, he’d remember this morning as vividly as it was in this very second. 

When he’d returned to his room to dress for the ball, he’d placed the flowers delicately on the nightstand and just stared at them for a time, his insides roiling with something he couldn’t—or wouldn’t—name before beginning to don his attire for the evening. 

When he’d done and was about to walk downstairs to meet the others, he paused a moment in indecision before ultimately feeling silly for fretting so much—and plucked one of the yellow cupped blooms from the small bouquet, and pushed it through his lapel. He looked in the glass one last time before proclaiming himself to be quite put together, and descended to the foyer. 

* * *

The Strands and the Reyes’ embarked south together, the parents and Raquel in one carriage and the four other children in the other. TK was seated next to Carlos who seemed in good spirits this evening, even if he was not volunteering much in the way of conversation. No matter, as Elena was chattering enough for all four of them. 

“I do hope the Sycamores will be attending! Oh Mr. Strand you simply must meet Julia. She’s such a peach, and quite knowledgeable about the railroad trade. Her father invests solely in Union Pacific, though, so please do not be offended.”

TK barely heard a word of it. Carlos’ knee was pressed into his in the cloying closeness of the carriage and his mental faculties were failing him. However, it seemed Elena was content to prattle on with no input from him. 

“And also the Misses Davis! They are twins second born to the now widower Mr. Elliot Davis just up the road. You must have passed their little cottage on your way in.”

TK hadn’t noticed any cottages so he could only assume she meant a house slightly smaller than her own. 

“Oh! We mustn’t forget Mr. Ramirez, of Cottonwood Farm. Such an accomplished equestrian and a terribly handsome specimen to boot! Well, he pales in comparison to Mr. de Castillo, of course, but that can’t be helped.”

The leg pressed against TK’s own tensed suddenly. It seemed any mention of this man set Carlos on edge. Were they at odds? It seemed appropriate given TK’s musings the day previous on Carlos’ hair trigger protectiveness. Perhaps they’d had a falling out that didn’t extend to the rest of the family. If that was so, then Elena was being a poor sister in bringing him up so often when her brother was clearly distressed at the mere mention of his name.

“Carlos! Are you excited to see him again? Mr. de Castillo I mean. You were mourning his departure so heavily last time he left us. I’m sure he’ll—“

“That’s enough, Elena,” Christina’s sharp voice cut through the carriage. Carlos’ face wasn’t…stricken, per se, but it was not the face of someone looking forward to meeting the topic of this conversation. TK fought with himself whether to place a comforting hand on the man’s shoulder, but ultimately decided against it. He’d after all vowed to himself to keep their interactions proper from here on out. 

* * *

They arrived to the Huntington’s large ranch home a little less than an hour later, during which time Christina had obligingly engaged her sister in conversation about any other attendee than Mr. de Castillo, and Carlos’ body had seemed to relax finally, his expression when he turned to TK one of excitement and anticipation. They were greeted in the foyer by the lady of the house, who rained the expected exultations upon their out-of-town guests before ferrying them along the crowd into the house proper where the music and conversation had reached deafening levels already, even though the evening was still quite young. This was advantageous to TK in particular since it required Carlos to lean in and speak directly in his ear in order to be heard. 

“Shall we get a drink first, or would you like to dance?” His eyes glowed warmly in the yellow light from the electric bulbs situated in sconces around the room. 

“If I’m to believe your sisters, I am to be whisked away by every lady and gentleman in the room simply on the novelty of my presence, so you’d better take your spot now before I am claimed,” TK said with a teasing smile. 

“And if I deny any of those others from claiming your hand the entirety of the night? What would you say to that?” Carlos intoned into his ear once again. TK’s belly swooped and he could feel his ears color with heat. 

When he regained his voice, he replied, “I’d say that’s most improper and everyone present would see you ejected from the festivities to avoid the scandal.”

“Mmm,” was all Carlos offered in answer. His smile was indulgent as he led TK to the floor as the band began a lively waltz. Carlos’ arm extended, his hand coming to rest proprietarily on TK’s waist, causing another swell of butterflies to alight from inside TK’s stomach as he placed his hand upon Carlos’ shoulder. Their opposite hands interlaced, and TK felt the shift of weight from his partner on the beat and followed. 

Dancing with Carlos was a dream. Every single person in the room might well have been nothing but smoke, apparitions conjured on the whim of an otherwise occupied mind, with no definite features and no purpose other than to experience the spectacle that was the couple in question. They moved across the floor with grace, and TK could swear Carlos’ grip upon his waist was tightening ever so slightly with every circuit around the room until the original breadth of space between them was cut nearly in half. 

“So, how are you enjoying Texas, really? I’ve talked your ear off incessantly about it without allowing you a word in edgewise. So tell me, how do you find it? My home?”

TK took a moment to breathe through the next set of steps. “It is quite lovely, really. So…quiet yet lively. Fresh yet lived in. I should like to visit again someday, if I’m invited.” This last was said with careful scrutiny of the answer. He did not wish to insert himself into their lives if he was not to be welcome past the end of the week as more than an acquaintance. 

“Of course! A glowing commendation such as that warrants a lifelong invitation. Surely not even Rosa could argue, and she’s not even met you and your father. I shall endeavor for all my accounts of you to hold the utmost adoration and she will be unable to refuse hosting you any time you wish to tour through the land again.” Carlos’ face colored a bit in the low light as he nearly snapped his mouth shut, but TK couldn’t suss why. Perhaps the heat of the crowded floor was getting to him. 

“I should hope your accounts hold only truth, sir, or else you should be scolded by those of the family who _have_ met us and can readily ascertain your falsehoods,” TK replied as Carlos led him through a gentle twirl before grasping at his waist again. The points of his fingers each held their own fire even through the wool of TK’s tails and waistcoat. 

“Not a falsehood will be uttered, I assure you. Only the deepest, sincerest admirations for you…and your father.” The last seemed tacked on as an afterthought, but TK thought nothing of it as his mind was thoroughly occupied elsewhere. 

They never missed a step, never came close to collision, even though their eyes did not leave each other for the whole of the dance. TK’s heart had taken on it’s rapid pace again, its behavior seemingly out of his hands any time he was near Carlos no matter how much he tried to master himself. He was smoothly guided across the floor as if they were on air, or the ice rinks in Central Park. 

TK was unaware of all the attention on them, bestowed partially because he was unfamiliar in these parts but also because of their obvious infatuation with each other. The other partygoers looked on in awe of their well-matched movements, and soon they were afforded nearly a quarter of the floor to themselves. 

When the waltz came to a close, Carlos slowed them to a gentle stop but held his position a moment longer than necessary. His hand tightened once more on TK’s waist before retreating, and TK tried to convince himself that his own mind invented the reluctance inherent in the gesture. They bowed in acknowledgment of each other.

“You are a wonderful partner,” TK said amongst the applause for the band. 

“Even the most wonderful dancers can trip over themselves without help from an equally talented counterpart. I am made graceful by your assistance.” This was said with another little bow, and until that moment TK had forgotten that their hands were still clasped. Carlos lifted those hands to his lips, giving TK every opportunity to pull away, before placing a chaste kiss to his knuckles. 

Every thought TK could have attempted to compile was arrested in that moment, burned away to nothing by the fire that erupted in his belly. The small huff of breath from Carlos’ nose against his skin reminded him of the morning on the stairs, and he lost himself in his thoughts once more. He forgot his promise of maintaining proper distance, forgot that his heart was so recently broken and so worryingly ready to be ripped in two anew, forgot that he’d resigned himself to holding out for five or ten years more to wait for a love truly meant for him.

In that moment, he gave up the pretense of denying himself. He was in love with Carlos Reyes, no matter the ludicrousness of it given they’d only known each other for three days. He’d never felt this connection with anyone and had it so readily returned. And surely it was returned? Why else would Carlos treat him so like a courtship? He thought back to all the tiny details of their acquaintance: the lingering looks, the good-natured teasing, the utter failure to notice anyone else in the room when the other was present. He wasn’t entirely sure beyond doubt that Carlos returned his affections but surely there was…regard there? Even though he didn’t know Carlos’ personality enough to understand his nuances, TK felt his heart clench with hope. 

They continued to stare into each other as the next song started up, oblivious to the stares from the rest of the room. Finally, TK broke the silence.

“I think I’ll take that drink now,” he laughed. Carlos’ face glowed with a smile that sparked one in TK’s own. 

* * *

Elena’s prediction proved true, and TK was flitted off by this lady or that gentleman throughout the night--including all three Reyes sisters--and he and Carlos were inevitably separated. He met a great deal of wonderful people and let himself be swept into conversation with several of the folk of the countryside. There were even a few, dare he say, knowing glances bestowed him by the elder attendees, some of whom said they’d spoken with Doña Marialena in the midst of the ball and heard very good things about him and his father, and hoped the week’s end was not the last they’d see of them. TK could give them no promises, but their eyes seemed to say they knew otherwise. 

It made his heart swell even more, and he was sure it would burst soon under the pressure of so small a space as his own chest. 

He was standing off to one side of the dance floor engaged in conversation with Miss Haverforth, a prim young lady of twenty who was nearly as chatty as Elena, but with a much sharper edge to her manner of conversation. They’d danced once and had retreated off to the side to catch their breath for a round and got to talking about all the others they could see from their vantage. He enjoyed her company, as she proved to be a prodigious gossip and he couldn’t help smiling at all of the illicit information she afforded him in such a short time.

“And Mrs. Raine is but seven and ten and already in…delicate condition. They’ve been married these two years but I dare say I’d not allow the family way to befall me at such a tender age before I’d established my own home. Mr. Raine is quite capable, do not misunderstand, but their estate is quite…well I mean to say that they are not quite settled in the wake of her mother’s death, as there is apparently some contingent in her will which was not foreseen by any of the sons or daughters that we know here in the country.”

“You mean to say there are others that you don’t know?” TK asked, mischievously scandalized.

“I mean that there were ones we did not know of until the old woman bit the twig,” she giggled in a low voice. TK’s eyes widened in astonishment. He’d thought, coming into this backwoods country village, that their lives would be boring and typical of farmers with nothing else to do but graze their cattle and tend to their pigs. But here Miss Haverforth was, telling him of one of the pillars of the county having a quite known affair—or perhaps several affairs—and having the fruits of it only known when it came time to distribute her proceeds upon her expiry. 

“I must say, Miss, you are quite the fount of knowledge. Any other secrets you can impart to me? I vow that they will not leave this conversation on pain of death,” he laughed. 

“Ah, well…let’s see. Oh! Well this is a quite known piece of gossip but I wonder at your knowledge of it.”

“Do please impart this gossip and I’ll tell you if I’ve heard it from somewhere else already,” he answered, intrigued.

“Well, you are staying with the Reyes’ are you not? Nevermind then, I’m sure you already know of it.”

“I can promise you I am not privy to any family secrets of the Reyes’, we’ve only been under their roof for three days.”

“Well, then. I shall give you this information which is, as I said, quite well known but not often talked of, as it has not been remarked upon directly by the involved parties and so it stands unconfirmed.” _But we all know it to be true_ , her glittering eyes said. TK waited in rapture. 

Instead of speaking, Miss Haverforth discreetly gestured across the room toward the table of drinks and refreshments. At first, TK could not see what she meant for him to focus on, as the crowds between them and the table were plentiful. But then…

Carlos, his stature and profile so intimately familiar to TK of late, appeared between a parting of two ladies. He was beautiful from this angle, as he was from every angle TK thought, but being able to admire him from afar was a different kind of bliss. He was speaking to a man just a bit taller, with blond hair and a wide, white smile. They were laughing with each other as if no one else existed in the room. The man’s hand was clasped around Carlos’ elbow and looked loathe to let go while Carlos’ looked just as reluctant to have it gone. 

“That, my dear Mr. Strand, is to be the match of the century,” Miss Haverforth uttered the words with gravity as if she was imparting the juiciest gossip yet. 

TK’s mind stuttered over her words. She went on before he could speak, for he couldn’t speak anyhow through his confusion, or his growing sense of unease.

“The blond man speaking to our dear Carlos is none other than Fernando de Castillo, heir to one of the greatest gold fortunes ever amassed.” She swooned for a moment. “Oh, but isn’t he handsome? And so besotted with Carlos, it is obvious! Look at how he endeavors just to brush against a shoulder or elbow. My god, he’s completely in raptures, can’t you see? And, well, our Carlos can easily be seen to return his affections wholeheartedly and why would he not? The man is handsome, warm, kind, and rich to boot! Oh how all the so-inclined ladies and gentlemen far and wide wished to land him. But he only has eyes for the sole Reyes’ son.” 

TK’s breath had stopped. He seemed incapable of any machination of life, involuntary or otherwise. His hands went clammy and cold, his throat was closing up, and he felt the unmistakable heat of shame crawl across his face all in the span of a few seconds. Her words had undone him, and she was still speaking.

“Of course, they’ve kept any engagement news hush hush for the moment, as Mr. de Castillo’s father has yet to properly meet Carlos as a suitor but we can all assume he’ll find him more than worthy of the match, don’t you? Even if you’ve only known him for a few days his kindness and amiability shine through no matter the situation. Oh, but I am happy for him! We’ve all longed to see Carlos so well-matched and the whole of the town can hardly wait to see the two of them settled. You must come back for the nuptials!” At this, she turned to him and seemed to take in his change of countenance. 

“Mr. Strand, are you quite well?”

He was desperate to speak, but he found he could not through the tightness of his throat and the emptiness of his belly. “I—“ he pushed the sound out with great difficulty. “I believe I am—not—I—“

“My word, you look the picture of ailment! Let me help you to—“

“No, no,” he croaked. His voice did not even sound like his own. He was spiraling into a depth of despair that he’d never imagined he would know. Finding Alexander in flagrante delicto with the footman could not even register on the same scale as this heartbreak, this humiliation. Had they all been laughing at him from the start? 

He forced himself to speak. “I shall find someplace to sit for a spell. I think I’m just having an adverse reaction to so much wine and so little food,” he managed, already stumbling away from her into the welcoming shadows at the corner of the room. 

For indeterminable minutes, he leaned against a gilded wall trying and failing to take in a breath that did not burn. Distantly, detached from his own body, he marveled at how one evening could seem so euphoric in one moment and so hellish the next. How could he have been so stupid?

After a time, he managed to peel himself off the wall in his mildly discreet hiding place and make for the foyer and the door. However against all odds and in the worst possible timing the universe had ever afforded him, none other than Carlos himself happened upon him.

“TK!” He called, his voice unusually light, but that could have been TK’s own melancholy covering everything around him in darkness so as to make such a call seem out of place as it would not have earlier in the evening. God damn him, but Carlos looked happy to see him. His stomach rolled and he tried to compose his face as he turned to face the other man. 

His smile was visibly forced and Carlos caught onto it instantly. 

“TK? Are you…what is the matter?” His eyes were earnest brown pools, and it made TK sicker to long for them to stay on him forever. 

“I am…not feeling very well. I believe I will retreat back to the house,” he said, his voice coming out surprisingly steady against the burn beginning behind his eyelids. He would not weep in front of this man. He _would not._

Carlos, ever the gentleman, seemed to take this in stride. “Alright then,” and this with an arm going up seemingly to offer to TK, “just let me inform our party and I’ll accompany you home—“

“No! No, I don’t require that. Please, enjoy your night and the company of your…friends.” The last word was choked out in a way that couldn’t be denied, and TK hoped against all things that Carlos did not mention it. He could feel the tears building and making his eyes shine, and he hoped Carlos would also ignore that. 

“Well, at least let me call the carriage for you—“

“No, no. I’ll walk.”

“It’s over five miles! And you look like you are about to keel over,” Carlos intoned, still offering his arm which TK had yet to take. If he touched the warmth of that arm, he knew he would crumble. “It’s dark, and you might lose your way! You are unfamiliar with the area—“

“I’ll be alright, I assure you. The road is well traveled and I can easily procure a candle from one of the servants.”

Carlos’ face said he was going to do anything but take TK at his word at this point, so TK forced himself to meet the man’s eyes. 

“Please,” he entreated, his voice breaking over the word, and that seemed to pull Carlos up short. “I am sure. Besides I find the unpolluted country air has been doing wonders for me. Perhaps that will be all I need to put me to rights.” The lie was softened butter in his throat—thick enough to be difficult to swallow, and oily enough to slide out of his mouth with little effort. 

“I…suppose so,” Carlos said haltingly with a furrowed brow, clearly detecting falsehood regarding TK’s state of being but understanding, seemingly implicitly, that leaving TK to himself was the best course of action. TK thanked the heavens the man was at least that intuitive. 

“Please, enjoy your night. I do not wish to cut it short for you. Do not worry for me.”

“I will anyway, though I’ll tell you I shan’t if that will make you happy,” was Carlos’ earnest response. It twisted TK’s heart wretchedly. “Be safe, TK.” His face looked as though he would give anything to not have to see TK off into the night alone. TK wondered if he imagined the guilt underlying his expression, despite not being aware that TK knew his secret.

“Thank you for your concern, Mr. Reyes,” was his last clipped sentence before turning away, precluding him from seeing the way Carlos’ face crumpled slightly at being addressed so, instead of the familiar way they’d come to speak to each other of late. It was TK’s way of putting the much needed distance between them that must now be, regardless of how horrible it felt to be the one to put it there. 

The long walk back to the Hacienda was a study in misery. With nothing around but the sounds of the animals and the breeze to distract him from his thoughts, TK spiraled into a depth of despair previously unfathomed. He brought back his earlier musings, that the entire family must have been laughing at him from the start, with his blatant shows of affection for Carlos and his encouragement of their growing intimacy despite not knowing each other a full week.

God in heaven, he was so stupid! This was why he kept getting his heart broken. He read into things that weren’t there, he put his heart out on the line before knowing the stakes, and he got burned. Burned to the absolute core of himself. 

How could he ever stack up against such a suitor as Mr. Fernando de Castillo anyway? Miss Haverforth had described him as kind and generous, and Elena had waxed poetic about his handsomeness which, now that TK had laid eyes on the man he could not discredit. How badly TK wanted to hate this intruder into their tiny bubble of existence, but he knew fundamentally that he could not. 

TK himself was the intruder. He had placed himself and his heart in a place it didn’t belong nor was it invited and he was going to have to pay the cost. 

When he arrived back at the Hacienda, Lydia the scullery maid was dumping out the castoffs of the servants dinner, and she was startled at seeing him walking up the long drive without hearing the hooves of the carriage horses. She called for a footman to help TK into the house and up the stairs, which presumably he did although TK remembered none of it. The next coherent thought he had past the utter devastation he’d acknowledged around halfway through his foot journey was that of wildflowers. 

His entire bedroom was filled with the scent of them, emanating from the bouquet on the night table and condensed and dispelled on the humidity of the night air. The sight of them wrenched his heart anew, and he all but stomped over to them, snatching them up and hurling them out of the open window into the lawn below. The petals—so bright in yellow and orange and pink, even in only the light of the stars—floated whimsically on the breeze and danced away delightedly in a mockery of the beginning of the evening. He disgustedly drew out the single bloom he’d worn as a boutonniere and flung it into the lingering chaos with a deep grunt of pain. 

Then he collapsed upon the rug, unable to hold himself up any longer, and sobbed into his fist. 

* * *

TK woke the next morning with an ache behind his eyes that he couldn’t rightfully contribute to what he’d imbibed the previous evening, as he hadn’t had nearly enough to affect him so. No, this ache was a combination of the truly enormous amount of tears he’d expelled added to the absolute wretchedness of what little sleep he’d managed get. He’d spent most of the night on the floor next to the bed, crying and catastrophizing in turns, before he heard the commotion of the rest of the family and his father arriving back to the house. 

He’d hurriedly swiped at his face and begun to undress, all the while listening to the gentle timbre of voices exhausted from a night spent in revelry. It had to have been nearing four in the morning and he’d left near midnight. TK rushed into his nightclothes and under the covers as quickly as his aching body would let him, lest someone come up to check on him—after all, he was purportedly unwell—and find him as yet still dressed in his evening attire. 

Once in bed, he couldn’t relax enough to drift off and he kept listening to the voices climbing the stairs and going off to their respective wings of the house. He heard footsteps outside his door, and they stopped just beyond so that the light from under the door was interrupted with someone standing just outside. Then, a soft knock, almost as if the caller did not actually want to be heard. A moment of silence, in which TK tried not to sniffle too loudly, and then a slow retreat of the footsteps down the hall. TK had heard no rustle of silk and bustled skirts, and his own father wouldn’t have knocked, so he could only assume it was—

He flipped his body over and squeezed his eyes shut against the heartbreak at just thinking the man’s name, and endeavored to catch what little sleep he was able. 

Now it was morning, and as he’d predicted the night before, his father came to check on him and refrained from knocking before simply entering the room with a concerned look upon his face. 

“TK? Mr. Reyes said you were unwell last night. Did you walk back by yourself?” His concern was palpable despite the evidence that nothing had befallen TK on the road. 

“Yes, father. I did not want to inconvenience anyone on my behalf for just a bit of sickness. As you can see, I found my way back just fine.”

“Yes, the footman informed us when we arrived back last night,” Owen said, and TK understood that was why Owen himself hadn’t checked in on him, knowing his son enough to intuit that he’d want to sleep off any ailment if he could. 

If only his father knew this was not an ailment of the body, but one of the soul. 

Owen leaned down to sit next to TK on the bed and held out a hand above his forehead. “You don’t seem to have any kind of fever. What caused you such distress that you couldn’t allow Mr. Reyes to accompany you home? He let me know that he offered, but that you refused quite vehemently.” His tone wasn’t accusatory, it was simply curious. 

At the mention of Carlos again, TK’s face must have shown some outer evidence of his agony, because his father’s expression morphed into one of understanding. “Ah. I see. You’ve found out a piece of information last night as well, haven’t you?”

TK’s eyes snapped up to meet his father’s. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m sure you remember my request to the Doña for her to introduce me to Mr. de Castillo last night.”

At the mention of _this_ name TK felt his stomach drop like lead, but his father continued on.

“She did, and he and I spent the better part of an hour talking of many things. One of the topics of discussion came round to how he’d met and grown close to the Reyes family, and I was curious to hear it. Among the anecdotes, he happened to mention that he expected to be more permanently tied to the family very soon. When he said it, the line of his gaze was clear and I followed it. His meaning could not be mistaken.”

TK wondered how many times his breathing could be arrested before it failed to restart again. The headache had flared to an almost unimaginable degree and he felt moisture fall down his face again without any power to stop it.

“Oh, son. I am so very sorry,” Owen cooed, rubbing a hand through TK’s hair like he’d done when TK was no more than ten. “I must admit, the Doña and I were…well we were watching the two of you with such anticipation. It’s my impression that Mr. de Castillo isn’t her ideal match for her son, so she had joined me in pushing for the two of you to grow closer. And…weren’t you?”

TK was crying in earnest now, ugly red blotches dotting his otherwise pale face. “I thought we were,” he whispered quietly. “I was mistaken.”

“No, TK, I do not think you were!” A squeeze to his arm to get his attention, and Owen’s face was open and honest. “It has been plain to anyone with eyes that Mr. Reyes has a certain fondness for you, that he harbors affection for you. Surely you can’t deny that?”

“The affection and fondness afforded to a friend, and nothing more,” came TK’s soft reply. He’d spent the entire night reminding himself of that, and now he repeated it like a mantra. _Just a friend. Only ever a friend._

“But son—“

“Please, father. Please leave it be. I cannot take any more false hope where there should be none. I wish to talk no more about it. I wish to finish out this week with what little dignity I have left, and after that I wish to go home.” 

Owen looked defeated in much the way TK felt. He knew his father had been wanting him to be married off, and if Carlos had returned his affections TK would have been nearly dragging the man to the altar as fast as humanly possible, but that was a dream that was not meant to last past the cold damp light of morning. TK would do well to begin compartmentalizing all the latent feelings lingering for a certain son of the house, and only then could he begin to heal and move on. 

* * *

Owen used his power as a concerned parent to have TK excused from breakfast, which was apparently too much for some of the Reyes family to bear. He was flattered that they worried for him, but he did not know how to face any of them with any kind of bravery after what he’d learned. So many things made sense now, not the least of which was Elena’s constant musings on Carlos’ apparent fiancé. The way she talked of him was practically as if he was already a beloved brother in law, not someone her own brother may or may not be engaged to. 

For the millionth time in the last half day, TK wondered at how stupid he had been this whole time. 

Around midday, the sound of swishing cotton and silk made its way through his door just before a firm, polite knock sounded against the thick wood. He figured he’d been rude enough for one morning, and dragged himself—still in his nightclothes—to the door. 

Christina wore a somberly muted blue dress and an equally somber expression when he opened the door. The sympathy in her eyes nearly made him break down again. He ushered her inside, heedless of the impropriety of it. By now anyone in this house would know she was in no danger of turning his eye anyway. Also, he couldn’t bear anyone else—just anyone, no one in particular—seeing him in the state he was in. 

He bid her to sit in one of the armchairs near the fireplace while he took the other. For a few minutes, neither spoke, content to watch the sparks of flame the chamber maid had kindled to life earlier, ostensibly in an effort to rid TK of whatever ailment they’d all convinced themselves he actually had, as if it was possible for him to catch a chill in Texas in the summer. 

Into the silence, Christina finally spoke. “Who told you?” She asked. She did not have to specify what he’d been told. 

“Miss Haverforth. She and I were chatting on the edge of the dance floor and I’d asked her for the juiciest gossip.” He let out a miserable huff of a laugh. “Shows what happens to fools who gossip, I guess.”

“I’m sure that whatever she said—“

“Was confirmed by my father this morning, for he heard it straight from your future brother in law’s mouth.” He couldn’t help the disgust that colored the statement. 

“Oh, TK.” She reached out a hand to his, her fingers gentle and warm. They hadn’t given each other leave to use their Christian names, but he found comfort in her familiarity that he did not want to give up in that moment. “I wish you would hear me out. There is no real, concrete arrangement between my brother and Mr. de Castillo. That’s what we’ve been telling Elena, but she won’t hear it because she is caught up in the false romanticism of it all. She sees two people who have known each other many years and have grown affectionate with each other, who have made a tentative agreement on the contingency of comfort for the duration of their lives, and she interprets love everlasting. I can assure you, she is wrong.” 

“I do not wish to come in between any arrangement, no matter how concrete or not. I have not been here a week and already I am inserting myself where I have no business being. My father and I came here for business, and nothing more. I was wrong to think anything else would come of this trip. In fact, I had told myself as much on the way here. No matter what kind of affection I have developed for your brother, it cannot amount to anything, for I am leaving two days hence and I will not return. Whatever endeavor my heart has embarked on, it was folly.” 

“But you are discounting the affection he has developed for _you,”_ she replied. He shook his head.

“The affection of a friend, and nothing more,” he repeated his words to his father. 

“No, please TK, I know my brother. I know when his heart has been opened and when it is simply resigned. With Fernando, it is the latter, I assure you. As I said, it was an agreement reached out of financial necessity and comfort, not out of any real connection of the heart,” she pleaded.

TK wrinkled his nose. “I saw them together last night. His smile did not—“ he choked a bit, willed the tears to keep themselves at bay, if there were in fact any left to fall—“his smile did not look resigned. It looked…blissful.” _Beautiful and happy_ , he added internally. 

“Please, I beg you to see—“

“I wish not to be a victim of constant pity or ridicule. I feel a fool enough as it is. I invented an infatuation on your brother’s part, and for that I will always be sorely sorry. He has been the utmost specimen of gentility, behaving without fault or design. It was I who read more into it than was there.” He paused for a moment to gather himself once more, and Christina was silent with respect for him to do so. He could not see that she was leaning toward him with an earnest expression of pain on her face. He could not see how she longed to change his mind, not knowing herself that it had been made up in the middle of the night and would not be budged no matter what assurances she fought to give him.

TK knew in his heart that if a straightforward denial did not come from Carlos himself, he would not believe a word of it. He also knew that he would rather die than ask for such a denial from the man himself. He wiped a fresh track of tears away from his heated cheek, and turned back to his new friend. 

“I wish to pass these next days in complete ignorance of the information I was given, though I know that is impossible. So I will pass them in my best approximation of feigned ignorance. I will pretend I have heard nothing and I implore, no, I beg of you to do the same. Please do not tell him that I know of his engagement, do not tell him anything of the real reason I was indisposed last night. I will come up with some falsehood to satisfy him, and that will be that. I do not wish him to pity my silly fantasies, I would not be able to bear it.”

He paused once more to turn his hand over in hers, clasping her fingers tightly. “I have gained friends in your family, and I will be forever grateful for that. I wish to leave our relationship as such. Please, don’t allow my folly to sour it.” He gave her a small smile, which she returned tentatively. 

“Very well, I promise to hold your secret. But you must promise me something in return,” she said. “You must promise me that if your feelings persist, and my brother does produce some kind of declaration in the future—one that cannot be denied even by your wounded heart—that you will happily accept to become my brother in law. I have found such a treasure in your friendship these past few days, and I should wish to prolong it as long as possible.”

“I can promise you that my feelings will not persist, because I am determined to extinguish them lest I perish among their flames. I can also promise you that no declaration will come from a man so true and honorable who has already even tentatively obliged himself to someone else. What I can promise you, however, is a lifelong friend. I will write to you often, and perhaps some day you can come stay with us in Manhattan. I can take you to Central Park and we can scout husbands.”

She laughed at this, though the sound was still tinged in sadness. “Alright. You’ve got yourself an accord, Mr. Strand.” She lifted their still clasped hands and adjusted their position, firmly holding and shaking as she’d seen her mother do with businessmen. His smile this time was more genuine, and he could see her heart was put somewhat at ease. 

He only hoped his own heart could recover enough to be whole again in the future. 

* * *

On the final morning of the Strands’ stay at the Hacienda, Carlos met TK in the hallway outside his rooms. 

“Good morning,” he said, somewhat breathlessly with a small bow. “I had hoped to catch you before breakfast.”

TK, dressed in a modest brown waistcoat and scarcely awake despite being actually out of bed this morning, paused in his pursuit of the stairs and waited for Carlos to finish his thought. 

When the other man just looked at him and did not speak for a long moment, simply staring, TK prompted him. “Yes? Did you wish to…tell me something? Or…”

Carlos seemed to come back to himself with a shake of his head and refocused on TK’s face. “I—yes. I wanted to ask you—that is, I…” He paused his rambling and began again, this time a little more confidently. “I had hoped you would accompany me on a ride this morning. As it’s your last day with us, and really only half since your carriage departs at midday for the inn, I wanted to give one last tour of the lands for your…perusal.”

TK contemplated for a moment. He wasn’t sure what Carlos’ design was in asking him and not his father if the point was surveying, but he supposed Carlos assumed TK had a bigger hand in his father’s business than was the case. After all, Owen had sent him along with Carlos in his stead that first morning—the morning of their picnic and their walk back through the apple orchard, and didn’t that memory give TK a pang of sorrow to remember it—so Carlos was rightfully assuming TK could be of assistance in this instance. Little did Carlos know the only reason Owen had sent him along that first day was because he and the Doña had been attempting to play matchmaker so early on, as his father had confessed just the night previous. 

Nevertheless, Carlos was not privy to TK’s pain nor the reason for it, and it would be rude to refuse him, so he accepted. Carlos’ face lit up at the prospect, but TK did not see it, as he’d given a tiny gasp of recollection that he’d been so deprived of sleep for the second night in a row that he had walked out of his room without combing his hair. Thanking Carlos formally for the invitation, he hurried back into his rooms to remedy it. 

* * *

TK was given use of Flor once again for the morning’s journey, which he happily accepted with a soft pat to her neck. Mrs. Smith had not packed them a picnic this time, as they’d both hurriedly partook in a light offering of bacon and toast straight from the workbench in the kitchen before Carlos was nearly dragging TK out the side door towards the stables. 

“I’m glad you are well this morning,” Carlos said as they began a path toward the east. “That is, I am glad you are at least better than the other night. I was surprised when you refused a call to the doctor, as you looked so pale and drawn before you left. I admit, I was worried beyond measure when you did not allow me to accompany you back.”

“Thank you for your concern, but it was just a bit of fever that passed on its own. I did not wish to trouble anyone,” he lied. 

“I endeavor always to respect your wishes.”

They fell into silence after that. TK still did not understand Carlos’ design in asking him on this journey if he was not going to converse at all. They might as well have had breakfast with the whole of the family so that TK could properly say his goodbyes along with his father.

They rode over a few swells of grassy pasture, between small groups of cattle that lowed at their approach. Carlos was leading them to a rather tall hill which stretched nearly five times their height now that TK could see it properly.

“That is the edge of the property,” Carlos said quietly, barely heard over the rustle of grass beneath the horses’ hooves. “It’s quite a view from the top, even if it is not necessarily a great summit.”

TK nodded in acknowledgment and followed him up the gentle slope. Flor and Jimena stepped confident and true despite the incline, and within minutes they found themselves at the top. TK was brought up short for a moment at the sight.

Sure, it was not a mountain by any means, but the elevation and the relative flatness of the rest of their surroundings gave them leave to view nearly the whole county, for miles in every direction. The air was clear and unfettered by the morning dew, and the sun was just rising over the tops of the treeline to the east. TK could see the plains dotted with the ranch homes of the people he’d met at the ball, all tucked into their own plots and surrounded by scatterings of trees and cattle of their own. Turning his eyes southward, TK could see the smoke rising up from the limestone quarry, and to the north were the electric lights—few though they were—of town. 

It was as if they were on a great precipice, able to view the land as gods or stewards of nature. TK had never experienced a view such as this one before. In New York, the smog at the ground level rarely afforded one more than fifty feet of visibility in front of his own face, much less the whole of the city sprawl. 

His voice came back to him after some minutes, but it was hushed and reverent, in awe of the nature surrounding them. 

“It’s…so beautiful,” he whispered. 

“Yes,” was Carlos’ equally hushed reply, though TK did not notice that he was not looking at the scenery at all. 

They spent a few more minutes in silence, TK soaking up the view, before he felt a hand on his arm where his sleeve was rolled up. The touch was light and fleeting, only meant to get his attention. Carlos did not allow his fingertips to linger against TK’s skin. TK felt the pulling away like a physical string tugging at the nerve endings under the surface as he turned to face his companion.

“T—Mr. Strand,” Carlos quickly corrected, and TK’s heart clenched. _I endeavor always to respect your wishes_. Carlos was respecting the request he’d made the night of the ball, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt to be addressed so formally. “I hope you have enjoyed your stay with us, and that this…partnership can be fruitful. I wish to convey upon you an invitation, issued from my mother on hers and my sister’s behalf, to call on us whenever you find yourself in the southern part of the country. We have all enjoyed your company and wish to remain friends.”

The man’s face was a study in seriousness. It seemed of grave importance that TK agree to accept this invitation. 

“I…am sure my father would accept such a kindness. Thank you and your family for your generosity. It has been a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” He hoped against hope that Carlos missed the hitch in his voice, along with the fact that he’d subtly declined to include himself in the acceptance. It seemed he had, as he was staring hard into the distance with a look of…difficulty on his usually smooth features. TK noticed his chest was rising and falling slightly more rapidly than normal. Perhaps the invitation was not welcomed on his part. Surely, after TK’s unmitigated show of stupidity with his freely shown affection, Carlos could not wait to be rid of him for all eternity to save them all further embarrassment. 

TK’s heart gave another painful wrench. He suddenly could not wait until midday to quit this place and leave his broken heart and shattered dignity behind and begin anew. 

The sun had risen fully by then, and TK took it as his cue to turn away from it back to the house. “We should get back, I think. The others may wait for us.” He looked to Carlos for direction in descending the hill safely, and caught his stricken expression before it was hurriedly shuttered away. TK did not know what to make of it, but pushed it out of his mind at Carlos’ clipped, “Yes, I suppose so” and followed the more experienced horseman down the slope. 

* * *

Their carriage was ready at half ten instead of noon, which had absolutely nothing to do with TK urging his father to pester the coachman to load their belongings faster so they could set off quickly. Owen took TK’s lack of subtlety in stride and took pity on his son, and soon they were ready to depart. 

This was much to the dismay of the Reyes daughters, who’d counted on a last luncheon with their guests but had been assured they needed to be off to make good time to the inn. With heavy hearts and heavier sighs of sadness, each of the three girls curtseyed delicately for Owen, and each offered their hands to TK. He greeted Christina last, and scarcely avoided simply tugging her into a tight hug. Propriety won over in the end, and they exchanged a long look that spoke volumes. He couldn’t wait to write to her. 

TK bowed low to the Doña, and she put out her hand to place on his shoulder. She gave him a sad smile which he tried to return, but he was unsure at its efficacy. And then came the hardest part. 

Carlos, being the only gentleman among the hosts, waited at the door of the carriage. Owen reached out to take his hand, and they shook firmly, the mark of a well received friendship among men. When Owen turned and climbed the steps into the cabin, TK was left on his own to face Carlos one last time. 

“Mr. Strand, I do wish you a safe journey home,” he said, taking TK’s hand.

TK shook it lightly, at a loss for words for a moment as he usually was when assaulted with the unfiltered light of Carlos’ beauty in such close proximity. 

“Thank you, Mr. Reyes. We shall look back on our stay with your family fondly. Thank you for your hospitality.” It felt too formal, too stiff, but TK could do nothing about that. 

They stood for scant seconds longer, unaware of every other eye gathered on the lawn trained on them. TK could have sworn he felt Carlos lift their hands toward his lips for a moment before he apparently thought better of it and squeezed one last time before letting go. He also missed the clenching of that freed hand at Carlos’ side, so tightly it made the knuckles stand out white against his tanned skin. 

Carlos’ other hand came up to help TK into the carriage, and the touch was so fleeting as to barely register before Carlos was turning away towards the house. The ladies stayed until the carriage started down the long drive of trees, Christina waving her kerchief in the wind until they were so small in the window of the cabin that TK had to turn his body back forward lest he get a pain in his neck. 

He worked his lungs to draw in air, but it was difficult. His hands were folded in his lap, only just short of fully trembling due to their grip on each other to the point of pain. Every foot, every meter, every turn of the wheels of their carriage pulled at the strings on his heart but he ignored it. The chapter was over, the book closed. He must do the mental work now of moving on. 

TK did not know how long they’d been traveling, as it was difficult to distinguish where one ranch ended and another began in these parts. It had been at least half an hour, so he could be reasonably certain that the iron ring around his chest would soon begin to loosen the further they moved from the Reyes’ Hacienda, when they heard the pounding of hooves. 

Owen sat up in his seat and rapped on the roof. “Slow and halt, driver!” The man barked a reply and did so. TK was momentarily afraid they were about to be robbed, but when he poked his head out of the side of the cabin he caught sight of a single rider barreling towards them. He was confident that if it _was_ robbery, he and his father could surely handle a single man. 

As the rider grew closer, less than a hundred feet, TK’s breath clenched inside his chest again. Even if he did not recognize the rider’s attire from so far away, he could recognize his seat on the horse; he could also recognize the horse as the pair drew closer, Jimena’s distinctive dark brown coat and light blond mane whipping in the wind. 

Carlos reached the carriage quickly, a cloud of dust kicked up behind him. Owen looked out the window with deep concern. “What’s the matter, Mr. Reyes? Has something happened?”

“No, Mr. Strand, I apologize for the…fright I may have given you. It’s just…” His face, already trickling with light sweat, colored nearly crimson. His liquid brown eyes found TK. “I wanted to…” he paused again and reached into his unbuttoned waistcoat. 

When his hand appeared again, clutched delicately within it was a single bloom. Indian Paintbrush, or _Castilleja,_ if TK’s memory of that first morning served him correctly. A beautiful stem of orange blossoms that caught the sunlight and gleamed a hue so vivid as to be inescapable. The petals were bit flattened on one side, presumably tucked into Carlos’ clothes to keep them from being completely stripped by the wind during the all out gallop to catch them up. He leaned down from the saddle and held the stem out to TK, his hand barely breaching the open window. 

“Something to remember us by,” he said, his voice carrying a grave air, as if one or both of them were sure to perish the next day and this was guaranteed to be the last time they ever laid eyes on each other.

TK lifted his hand slowly and took the flower, careful not to brush skin against skin lest he lose himself. 

“Thank you, it’s lovely.” His lips trembled. 

“Goodbye, TK,” Carlos said after only a slight hesitation. And then, without another word or acknowledgement, and with seemingly great effort, he swung the horse around and galloped away. 

“Son? Son, are you alright?” Owen asked quietly, his hand resting on TK’s knee across from him. TK barely registered that they’d begun moving again. 

“I’m…I’m fine,” his voice barely uttered, no more than a small huff of air before drawing back in a shaky breath. He held the flower delicately, so gently, in his lap as he stared out the window and let the silent tears fall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations (not word for word, but what I would have written in English):
> 
> “Si no paras esta línea de hablar en este instante, no asistirás a ningún baile durante toda la temporada.” = "If you do not cease this line of talking this instant, you will attend no more balls for the rest of the season."
> 
> “Pero por qué, Mamá? No entiendo por que me regañas—“ = "But why, Mama? I don't understand why you're scolding me--"
> 
> “Elena, no puedes ver lo que está pasando entre ellos?” = "Elena, can't you see what's happening between them?"
> 
> “Nada con Sr. de Castillo está fijo. Deja que tu hermano encuentre su propio felicidad.” = Nothing with Mr. de Castillo is decided. Let your brother find his own happiness."
> 
> Also, a fun game: comment the line from Part 2 that made you hate me the most lol

**Author's Note:**

> [@maybe-theres-hope on Tumblr :)](maybe-theres-hope.tumblr.com)


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